


The Goddess of the Hunt

by ziraseal



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Deviates From Canon, F/F, Other, Reincarnation fic, art by Rootproxy, ignores the dlc because I can't afford it, some m/f elements but mostly f/f, spans most of the games but not all of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-03-05 06:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18823102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziraseal/pseuds/ziraseal
Summary: When Daphnae fights Kassandra for the leadership of the Daughters of Artemis, and loses, both of them expect it to be the end.She comes to, with a deadly gash across her thigh and memories that belong to someone else.





	1. Begun Anew

 

 

75009 B.C.E.

 

Aita was not the only Isu to attempt it, but few after him were successful. Fewer still continued to reincarnate as humans in the eighty thousand years that followed. Countless tests examining the original method, deconstruction of incarnate corpses, and feuds about morality. None of it mattered, as the Isu memories and consciousness were trapped within feeble human bodies. It wasn’t a viable method of preserving a superior race.

 

Well, that’s what the others thought.

 

Alethea knew better, and the warrior had chosen to follow this cranky, rebellious woman as plans were hatched and future influencers were contacted via complex calculations and technologies. Unlike Alethea and most of their species, Diana felt more drawn to the natural world and the philosophical rather than the mathematic. She saw time the way the humans saw time. She understood the human musings and curiosities. She despised Juno, but pitied her for the loss of Aita. 

 

When things became desperate, Alethea suggested they recreate Aita’s experiment and attempt to create a Sage of their own. One to counter the efforts of Isu supremacy in the millenia to come. 

 

Had she been smart, Diana would not have volunteered. But she knew that, between Alethea, Minerva, and Jupiter, and the handful of others opposing Juno, she would fare best among the human body. They needed to stay in their forms in order to aid Eve and truly create the independence of humanity. 

 

It felt strange to die. The Isu experience a longevity that makes contemplating death a waste of time. She wondered if “Desmond” will feel this strange sensation, tens of thousands of years from now. She wondered if any of the humans will ever learn about her, the way they will of Minerva, Jupiter, and Juno. At least, that’s what Alethea told her; and she took Alethea’s word for it, as her concept of time was considered “broken” by her fellow Isu. Unlike the others, sitting in their perfect constructions and calculating the exact dates of events to come, Diana died and knew naught of the Earth’s future. 

 

As it turned out, the humans would learn about her, giving her various names as they would the others. But the greatest irony came in the form of a temple, in a human territory called Phocis.    

  
  


  
  


446 B.C.E.

  
  


“The temple of who?” she asked, confused.

 

Covered in mud and scratched by brambles, hunkering down in this wild, mountainous countryside... she felt lost in Greece. Well, she  _ was  _ lost, but there was another energy to it. As though someone else’s memories were flickering in and out. The forests here were both familiar and foreign to her, each twist and turn appearing the same as the last, and yet somehow she’d crossed the valley in success.

 

“Have you hit your head, child? This is the temple of Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt!” the woman sighed, waving her hand as though the speech had gotten old by now.

 

“I… I do not know who that is.”

 

“What kind of a Greek are you?”

 

Donya nervously glanced around, her eyes resting on the steel sword dangling from the woman’s hip. Were she to betray her origins, would she be killed? The war was still fresh in the minds of both countries. Her head could end up on a pike if she were not careful.

 

But there was a strange thought in her head. Though she did not know who this “Artemis” was, there were memories of hunting, and visions of forests just like this one where she was faster, stronger. Memories that felt blurry or locked behind some kind of door. The girl did everything she could to hold back the tears, but she needed to speak the truth. Whatever this place was, it was her destiny.

 

“I am a refugee from Persia. I know nothing of this land, I will die if I return to my own,” she sputtered, in what broken Greek she’d learned from her father.

 

The woman, possibly a priestess of this strange temple, merely raised an eyebrow and shifted her weight. Scars spilled down her sleeveless arms, and in the flickering light of the torches marking the border of the temple territory, the child could see a faint red paint patterning her skin. 

 

“The war is still fresh in the minds of most. Many would not hesitate to eliminate a Persian wandering this country, even a child.”

 

Donya shrank back, meek and terrified. She had no weapons on her, and even if she did, what could she know of fighting? It was horribly dark and rain had just begun to drizzle here and there. If she managed to outrun this woman, would she even survive the night?

 

“Calm down, little one. Where’s your family?”

 

“There was a… I don’t know how to say it… we were traveling through and... the mountains broke?”

 

The priestess glanced towards the direction of Macedonia, and the countless mountain peaks topped with a pristine snow. Her expression turned to sorrowful as she knelt down beside the trembling child.

 

“A mudslide, was it?”

 

Donya nodded, and the woman looked as though she was beginning to realize the filth and tear covering the child’s clothes. 

 

“It’s amazing you survived. You must be made of sturdy stuff, little one. Come inside, come inside. As a priestess, I can offer you sanctuary until we can find somewhere for you to stay, alright?”

 

Donya hesitated, her eyes still trained on the sword. But the priestess pushed the wooden doors open and pulled an adult sized cloak off the wall, wrapping it around the child and beckoning her in.

 

“My name is Pandora. I will keep you safe, you have my word, child.”

 

Led inside, Donya’s eyes marveled at the ten foot tall statue, decorated with an array of colorful paints; a woman with a small deer at her side. A beautiful, sleek marble bow and quiver set marked her as an archer. Her hair pulled back into a bun and a crown resting on top. There was something else about it, something unusual. Typically, Donya noticed, Greek statues did not focus so much on the details of the eyes, but this statue was different. The eyes were sharp and piercing, blatantly betraying the hunter’s determined nature, and inlaid with small pieces of gold. Donya could not stop looking at her. 

 

“I hope the presence of the Goddess brings you a sense of safety, child. Though she’s not one of your Persian gods, I think she took a liking to you if she would guide you through a midnight forest to one of her temples.”

 

Donya glanced at the priestess, Pandora, and silently nodded, her mouth still agape and awestruck at the statue. The doors of the temple gently closed and the room filled with a warmth that calmed a fluttering heart. 

 

  
  


By twelve years old, she could speak perfect Greek. By fourteen, her arrows cleanly pierced the hearts of local elk and ibexes.

 

By seventeen, she was using a different name. Her Persian blood and ancestry, even among the Daughters of Artemis, was a matter of privacy. The Greek world turned to the grand spectacle of Athens versus Sparta, but she would not let her background inhibit her from success, and her determination became widely known among the hunters of the forest. No one stood in the way of Daphnae.  

 

She was kind. She marveled at nature, and respected it as she was taught. Her worship of Artemis was born from gratitude. 

 

And how could she not worship this land? An eternal wave of oranges and browns that danced with the sunlight and spilled down into the sea at the bottom of the valley. This vast portion of Euboa that belonged to Pan and tamed by no human, how could she see this (and the rest of Greece) and feel anything but amazement every single day? 

 

“Chaire,  _ chosen one _ ,” a voice called out, breaking her from her thoughts.

 

“Orion, I heard you coming from up the mountain when you tripped over every branch in your path!” Daphnae jeered.

 

The young boy slowly climbed up one of the columns supporting the old ruin, his armor scraping against the marble and causing a horrid noise. Daphnae rolled her eyes and shifted herself so that they both could sit comfortably while waiting for the mentor. She understood why he was allowed to come along the sacred hunts, as he was training to be a champion of Delos, but it still irked her. 

 

Contrary to what some of the other huntresses said, it wasn’t because she had entered the phase of live where “girls fell under the spell of the Furies and went mad for boys”. Sure, Orion had beautiful eyes, one brown and one blue, and a hopeful face that never seemed to stop smiling, but there was an anger somewhere in there that only Daphnae had seen. Unlike the way of the huntresses, his kills were ever so slightly more brutal. It was never enough to shoot a beast in the heart, he would take a trophy while the beast was still panting and bleeding out. He liked proving his superiority, and it irked her.

 

“The both of you have scared the prey away, one by noise and the other by not setting her trap properly,” someone called through the trees.  

 

In dismay, Daphnae glanced down at the overgrown flooring of the ruins, in shock that her snare had been destroyed. Though there was a sign of struggle, no animal had been caught.

 

“Malaka!” 

 

“Guess all that time studying ancient tablets hasn’t paid off,” the boy next to her laughed.

 

“Ah, it must be difficult for me to concentrate on them when my eyes keep being blinded by that ridiculous outfit of yours.”

 

He scowled and glanced down at the silver chestplate he wore. Daphnae gave up and jumped down, knowing Pandora was watching somewhere in the trees. She gathered up the snare and wandered far enough away to reset it once more, adding nuts and berries as bait. As a huntress, she was forbidden from purchasing food in the local town, Chalkis. Survival was a greater devotion to the Goddess than prayer.

 

She glanced up from her snare and gasped. 

 

A beautiful golden stag gently walked through the forest, it’s fur glistening in the sunlight as it peacefully wove through the trees. It must have been a thing of legend, for its hooves and antlers looked to be of pure metal. She took step after step, gently following the Hind. T’was their target, after all, and though it separated her from her mentor, she would not lose the charge. 

 

Perhaps Artemis had truly blessed her on this day. Perhaps.

 

She pulled out her bow and knocked an arrow to the string before thinking better. A single shot would only serve to anger the beast, or worse frighten it into running away. Perhaps it already knew Daphnae was there, despite her efforts to keep as silent as possible. 

 

The Hind of Keryneia turned and stared her down. For a moment, Daphnae wondered if it would charge. If it had, it’s metal antlers would surely have skewered her through. A normal elk was dangerous enough, but this seemed to be something of another world. 

 

Another moment passed. She could hear the Hind’s heavy breathing and realized her own lungs had begun to match.

 

She lowered the bow, placing the arrow back in its quiver.

 

“Chaire, beast of the forest mother. I won’t hurt you.”

 

It was as though she’d said the correct thing. Now was not the time nor the person to slay Artemis’s messenger. She smiled as the Hind gently lowered it’s head once, afore turning and trotting away. 

 

An arrow whizzed past the girl’s head, causing her to nearly jump a foot in the air.

 

“Help! Help!”

 

Daphnae snapped from her focus back towards the ruins, and she realized with a pang of anxiety that she could hear the clashing of steel. 

 

She ran. Her feet burned as twigs snapped against her toes and rocks wedged into her sandals but she practically flew in a fury to the crumbled Makris. Three bodies lay at the bottom of the campsite, two of them people in strange masks and one of them… one of them…

 

“Pandora! No!” Daphnae cried, running up to the woman who had practically become her mater. 

 

Blood dripped from the mouth of the priestess as she desperately clutched Daphnae’s leather armor. The killing blow seemed to be a dagger sticking out of her thigh, as though she were a hero from the old poems. Daphnae couldn’t help the sobs shaking her body as she cradled the lead huntress’s head in her lap. 

 

“The Cult… save Orion… they took him…”

 

She glanced up, realizing the boy was not there. A slash into the bark of a nearby olive tree twenty paces away indicated the direction he’d been dragged towards, though it appeared he was at least trying to fight back. But… she couldn’t abandon her adopted mother for a boy she barely knew, even if he was the son of someone important.

 

“I need to get you to the cave at Mount Dirfi. Klymene can heal you.”

 

“The boy…”

 

“No! I won’t lose you!”

 

She ignored Pandora’s weak protests and used all of her strength to pick the woman up. Daphnae was short, but strong, and she found herself coursing with adrenaline she’d never experienced before. A horse tied to a post at Chalkris farm served as her saving grace, not even bothering to apologize to the farmer she stole it from as she draped the older woman across the back and grabbed the reins to lead the animal up the mountain. 

 

“He’s… they’re going to torture him… I failed…”

 

“What do you mean? Who are you talking about? Why would anyone want to kidnap him?”

 

But her protests seemed to fall on unconscious ears. 

 

The pitter patter of a light rain hit the rustic leaves above them, drops here and there leaking through and clashing onto a tear-stained face. Daphnae hoped it would help wash some of the blood off the horse and strived to move faster.

 

A handful of huntresses, bows drawn and arrows ready, greeted her at Katarraktes Cave. But Daphnae knew. She knew it the moment she looked into Klymene’s face. They took the dying priestess off of the horse, laying her on a simple mat and lighting nearby torches to see her wounds. One of the sisters gently pushed Daphnae back out into the rain with the steed, but the girl caught a glimpse through the bodies and thought she heard the mumble of a mourning prayer. 

 

“Go. Return this one to his rightful owner. We may not follow the laws of men, but we are not thieves.”

 

“But what about Pandora?!” 

 

“Just go, Daphnae!” the sister hissed in anger. 

 

She didn’t know how to ride a horse, so she walked back down, barely holding onto the creature. As soon as she could see a silo, though, she let the steed’s rope hang loose and gave it a slap to send it running. Then, she climbed her way up the rocks and mud back towards the cave, panting in desperation. Daphnae wasn’t an idiot; she knew her sister had sent her away so that she wouldn’t have to watch Pandora die. How dare they assume she wasn’t old enough to say goodbye? If it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t know―

 

A flock of black birds flew up through the gray sky just before she reached the mouth of the cave. A bad omen. Daphnae slowly pushed her way through her family and kneeled down at Pandora’s feet. Her tears fell onto the harsh stone floor and reminded her once more that she had been raised by naught but wilderness and hardship.

 

That night, the temple of Artemis in Phocis gained a new priestess. 

  
  


  
  


The cycle typically repeated without much change. The soul reanimated but did not fully realize itself, and for thousands upon thousands of years she had no way of enacting the purpose this experiment had yet to accomplish. Simply put, the Isu did not know it was an Isu, and unless some form of a trigger were to appear to contact her with the technology of her people, she would not be able to access previous memories. 

 

Of course, there had been successful lifetimes. 2250 BCE, Men-Nefer. 1703 BCE, Nippur. 632 BCE, Carthage. Technically, her first avatar had been the strongest, but really there hadn’t been as much success compared to Aita’s fully realized Sages. At least the upper hand was that Alethea knew exactly which time period mattered most for one of Diana’s incarnates, and they still had plenty of time. 

 

The reason the incarnate known as Daphnae would be successful, to put it in her colloquialisms, was because of the “malakas idiot who fell off her roof.”


	2. "Almost like the first time we met."

 

431 B.C.E.

  


“You! What are you doing here?!”

 

Kassandra panicked at the loud statement, a thick accent and harsh tone surprising her. With a single wobble of her leg, her foot slipped and she lost her balance on the rooftop. She heard a cry of concern from Ikaros but it couldn’t stop her as she toppled off the wooden temple and into a nearby bush. It could’ve been worse. The building stood at the edge of a cliff, and while she could survive a twenty foot fall, she had never taken a tumble beyond that without some form of cushioning.

 

Didn’t stop the wind from being knocked out of her lungs. She coughed and tried to catch her breath, but before she could say anything, a woman stood over her. She could feel a pointed piece of metal at her throat, slowly pressing in but not hard enough to draw blood.

 

How horrible it would be, to die so soon after leaving Kephallonia.

 

“Wait! Wait! I mean no harm to you?”

 

Was this woman a bandit? Definitely not a cultist, or a follower of Ares. Kassandra had spotted a group of hunters just outside of Kirrha. Perhaps she was one of―

 

“How dare you trespass on sacred ground!”

 

The most beautiful golden eyes Kassandra had ever seen peered into her own. The misthios’ tongue felt caught in her mouth, but some part of her brain knew to assert her own strength, albeit gently. She grabbed the woman’s sword by the razor sharp blade and closed her fist around it, pushing it far enough from her skin that she wouldn’t immediately die. She felt a small sting, but the huntress allowed the blade’s subtle movement.

 

“Either leave, or tell me what you want. Who are you?”

 

Kassandra inched herself some distance for safety, “I mean no disrespect.”

 

“You were climbing on the roof of this most sacred temple!”

 

“Ah. That’s fair. I was just trying to get a better view of the valley. I’m… um… I’m just a tourist.”

 

A poor lie. The priestess’s eyes narrowed and the sword raised back into harm’s way. Kassandra held up her hands in surrender.

 

“Some may know me as the Eagle Bearer, but my friends call me Kassandra.”

 

“Daphnae, leader of the Daughters of Artemis.”

 

“Nice to meet you, huntress. Can you put your weapon away?”

 

“Should you tell me why you’re really here, I may.”

 

Kassandra gave a soft smile and nodded her head in agreement. This woman seemed safe. Well, safe enough. She dropped her knapsack to the ground and pulled some of the letters she’d found in the cave beneath Delphi.

 

“I’m tracking down people who are… for lack of a better word… murderers. Fanatics. That sort of thing. One of them is a woman who lives in the wilds, and some of the locals mentioned that the building on this hill housed people who might know something.”

 

“Are you imposing that you’re here to kill huntresses?” Daphnae snarled.

 

“What? No! At least, I don’t think so? The hints I’ve found about her just indicate she lives alone. Well… she lives with bears. In a cave.”

 

Daphnae’s eyes gave a dangerous flash of anger, “Zoisme.”

 

“H-How do you spell that?” Kassandra asked, opening a scroll of paper and grabbing a piece of charcoal from her bag.

 

But Daphnae was already walking away, heading inside the temple to a weapon rack and fetching a quiver of deadly black arrows. She gave a quick prayer in silence to Artemis and grabbed the Eagle Bearer’s armor to tug her along.

 

“I’ll lead you right to her. Traitorous bitch.”

 

“Woah, hey, easy. There’s some story here that I’m missing? Why would you want her dead?”

 

“I cannot kill her. I am forbidden from killing a huntress unless it is by ritual combat. But you are free to spill her guts onto the Malis rocks and put her head on a pike.”

 

“That’s a little darker than what I had in mind, I’m more of a slit the throat during the nighttime misthios. Or I shoot them from a distance. So, what did she do? Betray some Artemis tenants? Or kill a sacred animal? Did she gaze at the goddess bathing like Actaeo―”

 

“She was expelled from our group, but allowed to leave. This was before I became the leader. Zoisme convinced Klymene that she had nothing to do with Pandora’s death, and that someone might have been pinning the blame on her. I, and a handful of others, believe the evidence to be faultless. Should she return to huntress lands, we are allowed to kill her for trespassing, but no official attempts to track her down have been made.”

 

“Official?”

 

“While out hunting, I have spotted a cave as you describe. Occupied with bears and yet outfitted as though someone lives there. The fires are always fresh, yet, I spot no one. I do not dare to come closer. But… you are not limited by my laws.”

 

Kassandra shrugged, “I’m not really limited by any laws, to be fair.”

 

“Good.”

 

Light turned into darkness, turning back into light before long. Their trek was exhausting, but Kassandra had gone without sleep before. The spear gave her a stamina that she couldn’t explain, not even to someone like Barnabas. Along the way, Daphnae swapped their exhausted horses at a small village, stealthily replacing them in the stables without so much as a second glance at the crime she’d committed. Kassandra was beginning to like her.

 

They rode in silence through the mountains, allowed to pass through huntress camps as they recognized their leader. Daphnae lied to her sisters and claimed that she was initiating Kassandra into their ranks, and preparing her for the “Goddess’ Hunt”. Whatever that meant. All of the women Kassandra spotted, almost hidden in the bushes and trees, had a beautiful red paint trailing down their arms and up their faces. She also noted tamed wolves among their ranks.

 

“Is that common?” she asked, as they finally entered the Bay of Xerxes.

 

“Learning how to tame a beast is one of our specialties. We use certain rituals and learn to speak their languages. There are accidents, but for the most part we live side by side with our companions.”

 

“Speak their languages? And what language is that?”

 

“The bristle of fur. The baring of the fang. One paw silently stepping in front of the other under the starlight. A single flick of a whisker can mean everything during a hunt.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Careful, mocking your allies as you do.”

 

“It comes with the ego,” Kassandra laughed. “Hard not to develop one when you do what I do for a living.”

 

“Sounds like someone could use a lesson in piety. We’re here.”

 

It was over quickly. Daphnae killed the bears, quietly and quickly, and Kassandra snuck into the cave. Zoisme was fast asleep, unaware of the looming threat. She took no pleasure in killing these people, but they had destroyed her life. Revenge triumphed her humanity enough to end this woman’s life, but not enough to do so mercilessly. She raised the spear of Leonidas and plunged it down, hearing only a groan escape from the monster’s chest. Another fragment of the pyramid and another letter that would point her to the next target were found lying around the cave, but she would deal with that later. As soon as she exited the cave, her proof being the blood dripping from her blade, Daphnae quickly left the immediate area and dropped to her knees.

 

Kassandra followed her, and caught a snipped of her prayer.

 

“―temis, forgive us for breaking ancient law. She would destroy all of your followers for her own gain. I could not let her continue.”

 

A hand on her shoulder. Both of them ignored how the contact made them feel, and instead Daphnae stood up and faced the misthios with a bow of respect. A pouch of drachmae was tossed into the Spartan’s hands, but the smirk and satisfied eyes were worth more than the reward.

 

“Back to Phokis, then?” Kassandra asked.

 

“Yes, but not to the temple with you.”

 

“Ah, of course, my bad. Sacred grounds and all that.”

 

“You are more than welcome to the temple. But first, I would give you a challenge. You’ve more than proven yourself to be a capable hunter, and you may be just the warrior I seek.”

 

Kassandra raised an eyebrow, “What sort of challenge?”

 

 

“Here. I killed your piggy for you.”

 

“So you did. You have a great deal of skill my friend.”

 

“I hope I have as much skill as you,” Kassandra smiled. Sometimes, she managed to say the right thing, and though she knew Artemis to be the goddess of chastity, she hoped a flirt or two would go without punishment.

 

Daphnae blushed. It was a cute sight to behold, watching the huntress nervously adjust her quiver and give the misthios’ stature a conspicuous glance.

 

“Oh, is that so? I hope to put your talents to the test.”

 

Kassandra took a step closer, gently entering Daphnae’s personal space and trailing a finger along the bow resting across her shoulder.

 

“How so?”

 

“Artemis has sent beasts out into the wild. Powerful beasts sent as trials. Kill them for me, and I’ll grant you a boon for each one. Kill them all, and… let’s just say your relationship with the Daughters of Artemis will be forever changed…”

 

Cryptic. Kassandra couldn’t say she liked cryptic, but she was finding herself drawing closer to Daphnae. The huntress, in turn, drew closer as well, her hand resting on Kassandra’s hip.

 

“And what is my reward for killing the Kalydonian Boar? Do I get to choose?” she whispered.

 

There was a fear in the smaller woman’s face. Not the sort of fear born from a threatened life, but the kind born from innocence. A fear resulting from a flustered woman. Their lips were only inches away, but Kassandra was patient. She would have Daphnae’s consent, especially considering which goddess the other woman worshipped. The huntress took a step back, her breathing irregular. She was silent for a moment afore speaking up;

 

“I will give you a sacred bow. Should you bring me another pelt of legend… perhaps I’ll give you something sweeter.”

 

“A kiss for a pelt?”

 

Finally, Daphnae’s face broke into a smile, sending relief through Kassandra. She walked into the temple, gesturing the misthios to follow her, and pulled a beautiful bow made of antlers off the wall. It felt strong, powerful in her arms. The string, too, was difficult for her to pull. The arrows fired from it would be most deadly.

 

“A kiss for a pelt,” Daphnae agreed.

 

“Well, you would find me fetching you a pelt quickly, then. Farewell, priestess of Artemis.”

 

“Goodbye, Kassandra of Sparta.”

 

 

1717 A.D.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!? Who forgot to order mortar rounds last time we were in Nassau?!”

 

“Um… y-you did, Cap.”

 

He could tell the officer regretted saying that, but he wasn’t the sort to punish his crew for their speech. Pirates as they were, he had some morals.

 

“Jaysus, get off your fucking arse and load us with fire barrels, then. We can at least stop them from coming closer. Jameson, get back on that swivel.”

 

“Ay, Captain Kidd!”

 

Though his crew didn’t realize it, they were fighting a Templar frigate. James was one of the few Assassins in the West Indies who had a ship, and while Edward would eagerly take a contract for gold, he was off exploring God knows where. _The Callisto_ was outgunned, but had a quicker pace. If they could trick the _Dogma_ into running aground in the sandbars nearby, he could anchor his vessel out of sight and sneak onboard. It was risky, but worth it to assassinate the governor hiding within its cabins.

 

Then again, sinking the ship, while unlikely, would mean an even bigger blow to the Templars.

 

Canons roared from across the water, and chain shot flew into the starboard water. He needed to make up his mind, fast, else risk the lives of his crew.

 

“Oi! Who’s this? What are they thinking?”

 

“Don’t see colors like that around here!”

 

From behind another island, a brig with beautiful blue sails emerged. Kidd’s heart began racing in panic before he quickly realized that the new challenger was headed at full speed towards the Dogma. A wicked ram adored the bow, carving into the frigate with a surprise attack. It wasn’t enough to split the boat, but it allowed the brig to pull up alongside the Dogma and board it.

 

“Jaysus! Give us some sail, then! Can’t let this new malaka steal our glory!”

 

The crew around him got to work, his helmsman instantly changing course. James, however, paused. What the everloving fuck did _malaka_ mean? He took it to be gibberish, he’d never heard the word in his life. Now wasn’t the time to wander his mind. It wasn’t “glory” he cared about, despite what he’d told his crew. He had to make sure these new bastards weren’t going to take his kill.

 

He added a new coat of paint to the list of things they would need to purchase in Nassau. They slammed up against the Dogma, effectively sandwiching it between the two boats. His men drew their swords and began climbing aboard, but Kidd took to higher ground, so to speak. The lift slung him up to the top of the sails, and he jumped from rigging to rigging as he observed the battle below.

 

Sure enough, Governor Cross had been coaxed out with the fighting, desperately dueling to keep alive. James positioned himself directly above the Templar, ready to strike, when the Governor sank to his knees.

 

A woman, dressed in a pitch black outfit from hat to boot, had stabbed him in the heart with a growl. Kidd narrowed his eyes and tried to see if he could identify any symbols on her. Female Templars were not uncommon by any means, but he couldn’t spy a single red cross. It didn’t lessen his anger at having lost his kill, and he jumped into the air to land on top of this foreign pirate and pin her down.

 

“Don’t move a muscle,” he hissed, his hidden blade at her throat.

 

“This is awfully familiar. Almost like the first time we met,” the woman laughed. “Almost missed you and sailed past Jamaica, were it not for those wonderful eyes.”

 

Her accent was strange, he couldn’t quite place it. Not Italian, not Turkish, not Spanish. She had a familiar voice, scars littered here and there, and a stare that James Kidd could have sworn he’d seen before. She was armed to the teeth, as was expected of a pirate, but he couldn’t find a hidden blade on her― it ruled out _that_ allegiance.

 

“You had better explain yourself. Who are you to attack my prize?”

 

“It’s almost exactly like Phocis, I would hope you were more original. And I helped you, Miss Read, you were going to end up at the bottom of the ocean if it weren’t for The Barnabas.”

 

Her heart stopped. This lass knew her identity? If she were smart, listening to her Assassin training, she would end her opponent now. Having one’s identity compromised meant certain death in this age old war. But, the hidden blade hesitated, and the strange gently woman pushed Mary away.

 

“I’m going to loot this man’s cabin, should you need your questions answered.”

 

James Kidd was known for being cryptic, but Mary Read didn’t much care for such riddles dealt her way. She followed the woman below the decks of the frigate, where her crew were searching for hidden opponents and ammunition. They ended up alone in one of the storage sections and Mary decided to reach up and let her hair down― if this woman was here to confront her about her identity, it felt a little silly parading around in her disguise.

 

“So, was it Kenway who blabbed? I told ‘im I’d unman him, and now I’ll be sticking true to my word.”

 

A flash of metal, and before she could react, a small cut appeared on her arm. The pain was hardly noticeable after years worth of training. The Assassin was quick, drawing pistol and pointing it between her opponent’s eyes, just as it hit her. She watched the woman sheathe a strange shaped knife, slowly recognizing it as the broken spear. And then Mary glanced back up.

 

The face she was staring at was the one she loved.

 

“Oh fuck, jaysus. It’s… it’s you…”

 

Kassandra grabbed Mary by the arms to steady her, but the pirate leaned into the immortal, burying her face in the taller woman’s coat. Hands gently held her close. With a deep breath, she felt a piece of her soul restored.

 

“I like this hairstyle. And you’re an Assassin this time around! Hasn’t happened in a few centuries!”

 

“Give me… give me a second, Kass. Never gonna get used to this.”

 

The Greek woman laughed, the sound an absolute music to Mary’s ears, “Take all the time you want. But you’ll have to tell me about these scars over a drink.”

 

Mary closed her eyes and chuckled, the memories flooding back like fireworks bursting in the sky.   

 

 

 

431 B.C.E

 

“I wouldn’t court her if I were you,” Klymene said.

 

There was a warning tone in her words.

 

“I’m not courting _her_ , she’s courting _me_ ,” Daphnae sighed, with a lingering smile.

 

The other sisters around the fireplace laughed and the elderly healer seemed to lighten up a tad. Love among the huntresses was not forbidden. It wasn’t exactly taboo to love men, either, but typically there was an air of unpleasantness to the woman who tempted to venture into the city for a husband. Still, Daphnae knew she was fishing in shark infested waters.

 

“Only Artemis can judge you, I suppose.”

 

“I mean no offense. I am sending this woman to slay beasts of legend. Is that not a worthy enough sacrifice for a flirt?”

 

Klymene gave her a grin, “We’ll see. Just don’t go neglecting your duties.”

 

“Artemis smite me should that happen,” Daphnae agreed.

 

It was nice to have huntresses in Phocis, rather than having to seek passage aboard a merchant ship bound for Chios. The Peloponnesian war was scattering everyone into the woods, so to find her family sneaking up to the temple for a few nights was a privilege she was immensely grateful for. Not to mention they happened upon a overturned cart full of war supplies on the way through Boeotia, and had decided to salvage what they could. Daphnae hadn’t enjoyed foods that were not hunted or gathered in quite some time, to say nothing of the rich wine.

 

“Pardon the interruption…”

 

Bows drawn and knives pulled. Daphnae brushed the crumbs off her armor and stood, motioning them to lower their weapons.

 

“Beast slayer! An odd time of night to find you here!” she said.

 

Kassandra sheepishly nodded and cleared her throat, “Well… um… can I talk to you privately?”

 

Ignoring the pointed stare of Klymene and the amusement of her fellow sisters, Daphnae nodded and followed her to the cliff edge. The moonlight gave a curious glow on the metal armor of the misthios, as though she were something more than a human.

 

“I brought you the Hind of Keryneia’s pelt.”

 

Daphnae stared at it for a great length of time, thinking of Pandora and Orion. She gently reached out and felt it’s delicate fur with her fingertips. Kassandra watched her with an inquisitive expression, but did not pry.

 

“I caught a glimpse of this beast when I was younger. It was a terrible day. To see it slain brings a sadness in me, yet I am glad that you brought Artemis this glory.”

 

Somehow, the warrior managed a soft voice in return;

 

“It wasn’t Artemis I hunted for.”

 

Kassandra gently placed the pelt on a nearby bench and returned to Daphnae, cupping her cheek and smiling. The huntress suppressed her anxiety. She wanted this. And she never went back on a promise. The stars were too wonderful tonight for her to not overcome her hesitation.    

 

She kissed Kassandra and changed her life.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a great deal of fun. Please leave comments, I would appreciate your thoughts!


	3. War, The Illness That Had No Cure

 

In her dreams, she found herself at the edge of a cave. The rocks here were weathered and old, sun-beaten by Phaeton’s mistake. Daphnae noted a tent by the side, the evidence of someone camping in this strange wilderness that she’d never seen. It was not Persia, but a similar place. Daphnae was smart enough to know that the world was not limited to the green wealth of Greece. 

 

Additionally, a large device resembling a metal chariot with four wheels but no horses rested paces away. She studied it with curiosity but could not make sense of its shape. Daphnae came to the conclusion that she might not be in a world as mortal Greeks knew it. Was this more than a dream, a vision perhaps?

 

Inside the cave, there were strange lights on metal sticks and papers scattered about with intricate drawings on them. Curious black ropes connected the lights to boxes here and there, and she followed the sand path of the cave down into a hallway. 

 

There was a woman, pacing around and arguing with someone Daphnae could not see. A voice, coming from a nearby box, argued back.

 

Was this woman a god? Surely only an immortal could accomplish such things. The woman, young and fiery, spoke in a language Daphnae couldn’t comprehend, but her intentions seemed clear; she was exploring this cave and using the strange boxes and magics to gain knowledge. Athena, perhaps? Daphnae couldn’t help but notice how much this woman looked like her, from the hair pulled back in an immaculate bun to the eyes intently focused on her goals. Daphnae followed this strange girl down a hallway to what could only have been a crypt of some kind, just as the dream began fading away.

 

What could the gods be trying to tell her?

  
  


  
  


425 B.C.E.

 

Six years of hunting, passing the time, occasional visits from the misthios, and leading the Daughters of Artemis. And every time Kassandra came to visit, she’d changed. Sometimes it was the armor she was wearing, sometimes it was sporting a new scar. There was a time she visited with a defeated look in her eyes, as though she were in mourning, but Daphnae did not pry. Their discussions were usually about Daphnae, when Kassandra did come by. About her childhood and her family, about the daughters and about the forests. Perhaps this temple was the one place the misthios could escape to. In fact, she wandered to Phocis so often to see Daphnae that the priestess was surprised when Kassandra did, in fact, bring a pelt of a legendary animal. 

 

“The fur and claws of the Nemean lion.”

 

Daphnae gently ran her hands over its mane, marveling at the size of the claws. She would hate to fight it herself, less she end with a worse fate than the shame of abandoning a hunt. 

 

“You are incredible. Are you okay? Did it hurt you?”

 

Kassandra looked hesitant to answer, afore presenting Daphnae with the spear she used in battle. It was beautiful, sleek polished metal with carvings in it that indicated its recent creation despite the fact that she’d Kassandra use it when they first met six years ago. Her fingers hovered over it for a mere second before she withdrew her hand; she felt a fear, but did not know why. Kassandra would not hurt her here and now. 

 

“This allows me to wield powers normal humans cannot. I don’t know how, save for that the spear and my blood are connected.”

 

“Your blood? Do you mean to tell me you are a child of the gods?”

 

Kassandra smiled, “Not the gods, no. Phoib― someone I once knew would always claim Ikaros was sent from Zues, but the truth is far more complicated.”

 

Daphnae nodded and chose not to press. She gently lifted the pelt from the arms of the misthios and brought it inside to the statue of the goddess. As the fur draped across the altar, the wooden boards creaked and groaned with the steps of the warrior following her. Daphnae knelt at the altar and was surprised to find Kassandra kneeling beside her.

 

“I didn’t think you honestly believed in the gods.”

 

The temple air remained undisturbed for a long time. The silence was broken by a light sigh.

 

“There is a difficulty in it. In watching the world I’d come to call home crumble. I had a decent life, not perfect but not horrible. I was neither a good person nor a bad person. I had people I was learning to accept as my new family. And then all of it was dissolved. I’ve seen the Greek world and reconnected with people who I thought I’d never see again. Sometimes I feel like Odysseus, but other times I feel as though I am Orpheus. Almost close to accomplishing what I need to save someone, and then I look back and lose them forever.”

 

Daphnae was about to create a response but Kassandra began again;

 

“Yes and no. I’ve seen things. Ancient structures built by people who don’t match the descriptions of Olympus that any priest will tell you about. But I want to believe in the gods, if that makes sense. I want to please them and stay on their good side because I can use all the help I can get.”

 

Daphnae gently laid her offerings for the day beside the pelt. Incense and various herbs and flowers. A shiny stone she’d spotted in a riverbed. Her own kill for the day, a doe. The smell of the slowly burning cyprus seemed to slither around them. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Kassandra pulling a few Drachmae out of a satchel and placing them at the marble sandals of the goddess. 

 

“I don’t know any prayers,” the misthios said in bitterness. “Markos was hardly a pious man.”

 

“It doesn’t matter if you cannot recite anything.”

 

Kassandra didn’t pray. She began talking out loud, much to Daphnae’s surprise. She spoke of the hunt, of her journey all across the known Greek world, of her real family and how she’d tracked down her mother. About the death of little Phoibe, and by then Daphnae could feel tears falling down her cheeks. She spoke to Artemis about the spear of Leonidas, which baffled Daphnae. Sure, she believed that it gave Kassandra power, she’d seen the woman fight when the Followers of Ares crawled out from their caves to terrorize the people of Phocis and Boeotia. Kassandra talked about love, too. About the few people she’d met who had stolen her heart. A rebel in Mykonos. A wife of the leader of a city. A gladiator training for a contest with Kassandra. All of them star-crossed, in a way. 

 

“But… Goddess… there is another. Strong and sharp and deadly,” Kassandra smiled. She gestured towards the statue, “She watches over you and your lands just as you watch over her. Her devotion is her morality, unwavering but understanding that not all can worship. And she’s so beautiful I wonder if she might be an immortal in disguise.”

 

Daphnae let out a deep sigh, not out of exasperation, but heartbreak. Kassandra loved her? True, Kassandra had brought pelt after pelt without question for the past six years, never giving up on the Hunt. There had, of course, been the occasional kiss. A night spent together. After all that time, meeting so many other people, to still love Daphnae above others? The devotion was… terribly admirable. 

 

And completely reciprocated, when she thought about it.

 

She found her head turning towards the misthios. Her lips parted just so. Kassandra was still glancing up at the statue, a small smirk beginning to form. 

 

“Thank you for listening, Artemis. I bid you farewell.”

 

Her feet carried her― still stunned― to the outside of the temple, following Kassandra to the posts that marked the temple on the main road. Without saying anything, the demigod turned and gave Daphnae a soft kiss on her cheek. 

 

“Where will you go now?” 

 

Kassandra smiled, “To Kirrha for now. Barnabas rented me a room to get enough rest before we journey to Messenia. My friend Brasidas has requested my help in securing the region for Sparta.”

 

“You’re going to war?”

 

Daphnae knew that Kassandra was more than a Beast-Slayer. She was a mercenary. A sell-sword. It was the only life she knew. But… for some reason… a part of her wanted to keep Kassandra with her in the forest forever. 

 

“I’ve been in many battles for both Sparta and Athens. This one may be different. I will likely face my brother, but I’m a match for him. I should be okay.”

 

The taller woman ducked her head down just enough to kiss the huntress on the lips. Daphnae, having found herself unable to speak, poured her soul into it and gripped the leather straps buckling Kassandra’s armor to hold her closer. She couldn’t let this end. If it ended, Kassandra would leave for war. War, the illness that had no cure.

 

A kiss to her forehead, and the misthios turned with a sad smile to walk down the dirt road trailing down the valley. 

 

Patches of sunlight poked through the clouds in a most heavenly way; as though the gods themselves were trying to send Daphnae a message. She gave herself a moment’s resolve and ran back up to the temple. There weren’t many chores left, a quick clean up, lighting a few torches that wouldn’t start fires and extinguishing the rest, gently arranging the pelt Nemean lion just so. She gave it a long glance afore taking her weapons and cloak out of the tent and running down the hills towards Kirrha. 

 

Daphnae didn’t go into cities that often. The noises, the thousands of footsteps that echoed cacophonous, seemed to clang and clash and echo against every wall. 

 

Her fingers clenched her bow tighter out of a nervousness. She felt like the scared Persian child she’d once been, although this time the dark forest was a bright white town, the enemies mere townsfolk. At least she could compose herself enough to ask for directions to the inn. 

 

When she found the building, noting the few sailors coming and going from a prominent boat docked in the bay that could only be the Adrestia, she slung her bow over her shoulders and decided to climb a nearby roof to spot which room the mercenary was staying in. She didn’t have to work hard, as Ikaros dove down into an open window and marked her target for her. Daphnae was no stranger to climbing trees and ruins, but it was still scary to take a running leap onto smooth stone and panic for a moment as her feet and fingers found no purchase.

 

Armored hands reached down and caught her before she could fall further. 

 

“What are you doing here, Daphnae??”

 

“I’d hoped to sneak in. I haven’t spent that much time climbing buildings, I’ll admit.”

 

Kassandra smiled and rolled her eyes, raw strength and tense muscle suddenly pulling the priestess into the inn room. Before another word could come out, Daphnae pulled her into a kiss. 

 

“I’m sorry… it’s just that… you’re going to war and…”

 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m happy to have someone who would chase me down and climb a building for me.”

 

_ I would do more. So much more. _

 

Daphnae reached out and unbuckled a strap of Kassandra’s chestplate. And then another. She glanced up into kind brown eyes and felt safer than she’d ever been. Daphnae made up her mind, then and there. She knew how the Hunt was traditionally supposed to end, but she’d be damned if she didn’t want to show Kassandra how much she cared. Kassandra was one of the few people Daphnae had ever slept with… but she would be the only person the huntress would ever make love to.   

 

She unbuckled the rest of the straps on the gleaming silver armor and pushed the Beast-Slayer towards the bed. 

  
  


  
  


1514 A.D.

  
  


Prince Suleiman set down the book he’d been pouring over and made eye contact with his adviser. 

 

“You will show her in.”

 

“But we don’t have any way of confirming who she is. She could be an Assassin for all we know, here to kill you.”

 

He let out a chuckle and nodded, “This woman is not of that affiliation. Although I do expect her to be armed to the teeth, none of those weapons are meant for my blood. Show her in, and let our meeting be private. I did have her summoned all the way to Topkapi, after all.”

 

The adviser respectfully bowed, waving his hand for the guards to leave the room with him. Suleiman set his book back on the shelf and paced around his study for a few more minutes. The doors finally swung open and Kassandra walked inside. She wore elegant robes and carried several documents in an effort, the prince knew, to pose as a politician. It was something else, to finally see those brown eyes once more, and he let out a happy breath he'd been holding in.

 

“Greetings, my prince. I’m here as an ambassador of the Greek district of your supreme city of Istanb―”

 

“There is nothing to worry about, Kassandra, I have my memories,” the prince interrupted with a smile. “You needn’t stab me with that infernal razor.”

 

She looked confused, clearly unable to process how this incarnation was so much more advanced than the past ones. Suleiman gestured towards a reading table with several seats and began pouring tea for the two of them. 

 

“And how do I know that you’re not messing with me? There is an Isu artifact that only the two of us know about. What is it?”

 

“A chariot,” he answered.

 

A pause, and then her face broke into a childish grin. She rushed out of her chair and gave him a warm hug. Suleiman laughed and held her close for a moment, then sat back down. He needed to be careful with how affectionate he was in a palace whose walls had eyes and ears. After the death of his uncle two years prior, everyone was alert and superstitious. 

 

“How did you manage to restore your memories?”

 

“Tell me, as it’s been a while, have you come across an Ezio Auditore in your travels?”

 

Judging by Kassandra’s frown and rubbing of her eyebrows in annoyance, Suleiman took that as his cue to continue. He took a sip of warm tea and shifted in his seat.

 

“You may know, then, that he came to Istanbul to seek keys to a library beneath Masyaf castle. One of the keys was found beneath Topkapi in an underground vault four years ago. I was with those that initially uncovered it, as was my traitorous uncle, Achmed. These artifacts are Isu in origin, and specifically designed to relive memories. The Isu viewed them as trinkets, but to a human, it is a priceless look into our past.

 

“When I touched it, I relieved a memory of Altair Ibn-La’Ahad and his son Darim with the Polo's. But that wasn’t all, my memories slowly began coming back to me. While you and I know that only certain bloodlines are able to wield Pieces of Eden, I believe that Diana’s incarnates can activate these disks. My uncle, Achmed, could not relieve the memories, else he may have had a completely different viewpoint on this endless war, but Ezio told me he could see Altair and Masyaf in the disks.”

 

“That’s a very long winded way of saying you want me to stop cutting you with the spear in order to become fully-realized.” 

 

Suleiman shrugged, “It’s just a suggestion. From the son and grandson of a Sultan.”

 

“You cannot order me around, I’m the granddaughter of a king.”

 

“Careful with that talk. My court will not be as jovial with you as I am.”

 

Kassandra’s face fell a little, and he could sense that she was beginning to realize their situation. Were Suleiman not the future monarch of the Ottoman Empire, they could be together. But he would need to marry, to have children and continue the sultanate. To be seen in public with a future wife. All eyes were upon him, and he knew all too well that Kassandra needed to keep in the shadows. Very few people knew about the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus, and he would not sacrifice centuries of their work for foolishness.

 

“What are we going to do?” she asked, gently taking his hand.

 

“What we can do. For now, I would suggest you ally yourself with the Galata Assassins. They could use someone like you. I know you don’t always like working with them, but Ezio greatly destroyed Byzantine influence in the city. This will be a time of peace, and if we’re careful, we can use the amount of time I have left to plan our next moves. Have you figured out where we’re going to meet next?”

 

“The pyramid only showed me a few places, and they don’t always match up with when we meet. You know this. The only constant is that you’re often tied to certain Assassins.”

 

“Whereas the Sages are tied to prolific Templars in the name of secretly initiating Isu supremacy.”

 

Kassandra nodded.

 

“And what of the woman who is to take the Staff? Do you know how long we have until you meet her?” Suleiman pressed.

 

“I do not know. Only that Thera is where I will meet her.”

 

He sat back in his chair with a small frown. These complications only slowed down their progress. Though the incarnations were frequent, without Kassandra or the spear to activate Diana’s blood, they would lose a lifetime of potential progress. 

 

“When you give her the staff…”

 

“We’ve had this conversation hundreds of times Da― Prince Suleiman. I am here to fulfill the instructions Pythagoras gave me. Diana and Aletheia created this series of incarnates to fight for humanity’s freedom. There will come a time when my goal is completed… but you may very well fight for eternity. I understand that I will die. You need to understand that you won’t.”

 

This was not the first time they’d argued, he knew. Yet it pained him. For the first time in thousands of years, they had the influence of an entire Empire and could create change in their favor. Perhaps even enact a proper plan; find more Isu sites and figure out how to permanently fix Diana’s memories as Aita had with his Sages. God forbid they manage to devise a way to quickly find each other after each incarnation died. But Kassandra believed her journey's end to be with this woman in the future; the woman who would inherit the staff and cease to sustain the Greek woman’s life as had happened to Pythagoras. 

 

Her features softened, however, and she squeezed his hand, “This is not the first time we have found each other only to be confined by society and fate and aught else. I will help you, Suleiman. And I will continue helping you until we must confront whatever the girl needs the staff for. You have my word.”

 

“You know something then, about the girl. The fact that she needs the staff for something, and not simply to be immortal as you are?”

 

Kassandra hesitated, “A few years ago, you would have been a child then, I met Ezio and explained who I was. I knew him from the Pyramid to be someone I could trust. He revealed in turn that he had contact with Minerva and had discussed a person named Desmond. That something was to happen, that the world would burn again.”

 

“I remember Aletheia and Minerva discussing a Desmond, yes,” Suleiman said. He rubbed his brow in frustration, “Daphnae would have known more. Of all of us thus far, she learned and realized most of the truth. Perhaps the artifact she discovered beneath the site?”

 

“So what you’re saying is that we could fully reveal Diana’s memories if we were to go back to Phocis?”

 

“Possibly. But I am needed here. You know this.” 

 

“I can travel there and travel to Thera as well to contact Aletheia. It isn’t as though I can do much work here. The Assassin’s are at full strength and the sultanate is expected to transition peacefully.”

 

“Kassandra… don’t take my responsibilities in this lifetime as a sign that I don’t love you. I have had four years to think about these memories and you and what my plan was going to be when you finally found me. Greece is not so far away, you can go to Phocis and Thera, learn what you can from Aletheia, and then come back to me quickly. We will figure something out. I promise.”

 

“I will. You think I would pass up on the opportunity to have an entire empire in the palm of my hand?”

  
  


  
  


422 B.C.E.

 

Blood was everywhere. She’d fought in many battles before, but this was horrific. Why had she said  _ yes _ ? It wasn’t a matter of pride, she’d walked away from fights before. Stupid, stupid! The one time she should have said no and instead Kassandra had thrown away the best thing in her life because Daphnae had never looked angrier when she initially refused. 

 

_ I’m a monster _ .

 

Though she'd mainly fought this duel with a staff, she threw the Spear of Leonidas (the weapon that had delivered the fatal blow to Daphnae’s thigh) to the side. Her arms felt weak and tired but she managed to lift the huntress’s head into her lap. 

 

“No, no, no! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I never should have come to Chios. D-Daphnae?”

 

A wheeze emitted from the smaller woman’s lips, her golden eyes unfocused. Blood stained fingers reached up and trailed along Kassandra’s cheek, mingling with the tears beginning to cloud her vision. 

 

“You fought well. Take care of my sisters… whatever our differences, I have to know they’re safe.”

 

“Please, stay with me. I’ll get you to a healer!”

 

“No, Kassandra. It’s going to be alright. I’m glad to leave my sisters to someone I love.”

 

Kassandra was full on crying now. She cradled the body closer to her and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against Daphnae’s. Why had she done this? All she was would ever be a creation of death and destruction. She couldn’t do anything right.

 

“I loved you too, Donya of Persia. Daphnae of Phocis.” 

 

Were her eyes open, she would have noticed her accursed spear glowing in the tall grass. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens next will shock you.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, I meant to draw the duel out more but I'm not very good at writing combat. Some fic authors devote whole chapters to a single fight scene but not me, no sir. I'd much rather bore you with half a chapter of boring tea time and fake First Civ lore. But please, leave comments!


	4. Myera

 422 B.C.E.

 

Fine, soft linen with a beautiful pattern. That was the first thing she noticed. Of course, said linen was draped over her face and body, causing an intense amount of claustrophobia. Then, of course, the sheer amount of pain. And the coin in her mouth. Daphnae spat the silver obol out and sputtered through a few coughs, her chest completely sore from where Kassandra’s wooden staff had struck her during the duel. Perhaps a rib had been broken. Or two.

 

Her fingers gently reached up and pulled the shroud all the way off her body. They must have thought she was dead. Daphnae certainly felt like death, but she knew she could recover if she was able to wake up here and now. The Daughters of Artemis were tougher than the Spartan or Athenian armies― perhaps as tough as Kassandra, though not as deadly.

 

Still, it meant that the duel had not been finalized, if she still drew breath. But perhaps this was enough of a defeat that she would not need to fight Kassandra further. Gods knew she could not defeat the misthios.

 

 _I can’t believe Kassandra said yes to the duel_.

 

The priestess sat up, wincing at the cut on her thigh that burned and stung. Someone had cleaned and dressed it for her burial, but for obvious reasons they had _not_ treated the wound. The huntresses knew basic stitching for cuts, alongside other forest cures, but Daphnae was willing to admit Apollo’s city healers may be of more help. She would consult Klymene first.

 

A drop of water fell on her face, and she realized that she was in a cave. It wasn’t terribly dark, but the candlelight was more meant for ritualization and less for practicality, even still she recognized it as Angelos Cave. Traditionally, it was a huntress burial cave, but often it became overrun with bandits (or worse) seeking their newest hideout― to the point that the Daughters of Artemis were willing to share it with the local populace in exchange for soldier patrols once a month. That would explain the dampness, as it faced the ocean. She had buried Pandora here, and remembered that this specific room was blocked off with a huge stone to prevent desecrators and hungry animals from disturbing the dead. That would make things difficult.

 

There was also the interesting revelation that all of the pelts Kassandra had brought her over the years were surrounding the stone slab she’d been laid on. It pained her greatly to see them.

 

None of the plants left as offerings were medicinal, but at least the food was still fresh. She took a bundle of goat’s cheese and a small knife from the pile meant to go with her to the underworld. It was touching that they left her with a decent amount of gifts.

 

The boulder itself actually had a trick; it had been dug into a track to make it easy to roll but you had to pull on it if you wanted to get into the cave. That meant she only needed to push to escape; but it was harder than she thought in her current state. She had to go at it several times, using other rocks to prop it open as she caught her breath. After ten minutes of effort, Daphnae finally managed to squeeze through the entrance to the crypt and the actual cave itself. The taste of salt hit her tongue and she wished that she’d been laid to rest with a cloak of some kind― she realized with a small chuckle that taking the burial shroud with her would have provided warmth. Her thoughts poured out aloud;

 

“Okay… what do I do? I don’t know if I can make it to the village. Perhaps the local fishing town can help me.”

 

Rain smacked into her face and she climbed up the hill seeking the shelter of the trees. Daphnae knew of some small camps where the huntresses had set up hunting blinds, but she feared that if she went to sleep she might not wake up.

 

Even with the road nearby, the forest on these islands was thick. Terrifying, somewhat, with only a little knife to protect her. Though the Daughters had tamed wolves and bears, wild animals cared little for which gods one revered. Still, she knew that the wolves would avoid the paths leading towards military camps and their terrifying noises.

 

After ten minutes of wandering, the gods seemed to favor her. She spotted one of the huntresses in the distance; Chloe.

 

“Keep searching, we know she didn’t escape on that ship of hers! We have Aminta watching the docks in case she takes passage from some merchant.”

 

Who was she talking about? Who was she talking to? Were there other huntresses around? Did they know Daphnae was alive, albeit barely so.

 

Then, Chloe drew and aimed her bow, up into the sky. Daphnae frowned at this; the Daughters did not hunt birds, they sought larger prey to appease Artemis. But the arrow flew fast, strong, and true― and in the distance Daphnae saw an eagle fall from the sky in pain.

 

“Was that him?”

 

“Go and check his claws, the misthios keeps a leather band tied around its ankle!”

 

The other woman, Sophia judging by her voice, appeared from out of the bushes and turned the writhing raptor over with her sword. Daphnae carefully crept into the nearby wildflowers.

 

Something wasn’t right.

 

“It’s not her bird. Doesn’t have the strap. Feathers are off-color, too. This one is too old to be hers.”

 

“Well, we keep searching. Klymene says the bird is her eyes, and she can’t surprise us if she can’t see us!”

 

Were… were they hunting Ikaros and Kassandra? That made no sense. If they believed Daphnae to be dead, Kassandra would be their rightful leader. By tradition and huntress law, they were bound to follow her with religious loyalty and protect her with their lives.

 

The huntresses ran off, in the opposite direction of the fishing village as they spotted another eagle to hunt. Daphnae couldn’t believe their blasphemy― the nerve they had to hunt Zues’ sacred animal. She snuck up to the dying bird they’d just shot and ended its suffering with the knife.  

 

“Go to Olympus in peace, blessed one,” she whispered.

 

None of this made sense, but she had the nervous suspicion that she would not be safe if she returned to the village. Perhaps her sisters had been touched with the madness curse of Dionysus. She hoped it were so, for the alternative would be too much. They seemed to imply that Klymene was ordering the huntresses around. Klymene, who had established a role as a kind but stern healer― she had turned down the role of leader after Pandora’s death, and Daphnae had other lieutenants in line for leadership in case of accident. It didn’t make sense.

 

She made it to the edge of the fishing village and found an alley to kneel in. If Daphnae had to do this, perhaps praying to the gods first would at least stave off punishment for a moment.

 

“Gods, forgive me should the worst come to pass. And… Nyx…  let me go unnoticed that I do not cause chaos in this town.”

 

Daphnae snuck through, hiding behind barrels and in bushes as she made her way towards the docks. Along the way, she stole a cloak with a hood and tied it over her shoulders. It felt strange to mask her face, but a huntress was a recognizable character. Were people to realize that her body was missing from the cave, they would ask questions and follow eyewitnesses.

 

_I can’t believe I’m exiling myself without knowing the full truth._

 

A few coins gently swiped from a table, along with another silent prayer begging for forgiveness, and she paid for passage west to Mykonos. In the sacred lands of Artemis, perhaps, she would be safe enough to heal and plan her next move. The captain accepted her gold and told her that they would be taking off in an hour; she chose to wait in an alleyway to stave off the harsh wind.

 

“You, why are you paying so much to leave the island? Are you the misthios perhaps?”

 

Frightened out of her wits, she was suddenly pulled by a harsh hand and turned around, staring into the face of Aminta, a younger huntress. The poor girl’s face shifted from a courageous warrior prepared to face the Eagle Bearer herself to horrified at looking at the face of her dead leader.

 

“What ghost are you? Have we offended Hades in some way?!” Aminta shrieked.

 

Daphnae panicked, all reason leaving her mind. She realized that sneaking through the muddy forest must have covered her in filth, and that being on the edge of death did not exactly give her a healthy glow to her face. The priestess must have looked as though she dug her way out of the Underworld.

 

Something happened. Something Daphnae could not explain. She began speaking in a tongue she did not know, her voice sounding neither here nor there. The words made perfect sense to her, despite the fact that she only knew Greek and Persian.

 

“ _Leave me alone, human.”_

 

Aminta tried to sputter out a prayer, turning and running. In her panic, she’d dropped her bow, the wooden weapon clattering to the ground. It wasn’t what Daphnae meant to say by any means, she would have quieted Aminta and tried to explain her situation. Perhaps even learn what Klymene was up to, as Aminta was one of the quieter, more tempered huntresses.

 

What language had slipped out of her lips?

 

She gathered the bow, as well. If she could find arrows along the way, or perhaps in Mykonos, she would better be able to defend herself than just the single dagger.

 

The ship captain gave her an odd look as she stepped on board, but gave her a space of floor below deck to sleep and a few scratchy blankets. She asked for a needle and thread to stitch her thigh and cloth for bandages and, offering the ceremonial dagger for trade, was given the supplies by a slightly reluctant first mate.

 

Between bites of goat cheese and cleaning her wounds, she realized that she was extremely tired. Coming back from the dead must take a great deal of energy, Daphnae realized. The priestess set aside her items and used a sack of grain as a pillow, pulling the blanket over her and listening to the waves splashing against the hull.

 

 

 

“It is good of you to do this,” Herodotus said.

 

His voice was gentle and calm, as always. The anchor she desperately needed right now.

 

Kassandra had always liked Samos. One of the more peaceful islands she had ever been to, with white sand and a kind sun that shone between the vineyards surrounding them. The hill they were on was covered in a soft grass that tickled her toes and eased her somewhat. It was perfect and peaceful and nothing like the desolation of Thera and the other volcanic islands in that region.

 

“It’s where he was born. I am his only offspring, it is my responsibility to bury him here. Besides, others may have the chance to visit him now, so long as they don’t know he didn’t die a century ago.”

 

“Still, it’s important you know that you’re not alone, Kassandra,” Banabas smiled.   

 

Kassandra made a grunt in amusement, “You two are more fathers to me than he ever was. Thank you for bringing him here while I was on Chios.”

 

It reminded her of Podarkes’ funeral, of a daughter burning the body of a father she’d never known. Pythagoras looked peaceful, even as the flames licked up the side of the pyre. Above them, Ikaros circled and let out a cry― and Kassandra remembered Pythagoras saying that the eagle was an old friend of his.

 

_I wonder if he could see through Ikaros’s eyes as I could. Was that a gift from Alethea, perhaps?_

 

Barnabas slapped her on the shoulder, nearly knocking her over in surprise rather than in strength.

 

“You know, this reminds me of my uncle Cimon’s funeral. A wonderful event, full of wine and celebration― we were hardly mourning for his loss as it brought the whole family together for games and feasting! He would have loved it, he was a priest of Dionysus, of course.”

 

Herodotus cleared his throat, “There are more appropriate customs for that sort of―”

 

“Nonsense! You should celebrate the one you love by dancing and song! Sing of their praise and how they burned brighter than Apollo’s chariot while on Earth!”

 

It was too much for her, and in her grief she fell to the ground crying. She should have more strength and stayed. Even if she had killed Daphnae, fleeing from the Daughters and not being there for her funeral was far worse an act. For so many years they had been in love, unburdened by any of the other dilemmas that plagued Kassandra’s life. And… if there were a way, she would have married the huntress. She would gladly have spent the rest of her life with this woman. And yet she killed her.

 

_At least Cephalus had not intended to throw the spear at his wife, and could be forgiven for his actions. I knew what I was doing. I willingly accepted her challenge._

 

Herodotus and Barnabas knelt down in haste and tried to comfort her, wrinkled hands holding her own.

 

“It’s okay, Kassandra. Pythagoras has earned his place in Elysium. He would want you to continue on,” her captain said.

 

The misthios shook her head, trying to wipe her tears away so she could see. Herodotus offered her a piece of cloth from his knapsack and she gratefully accepted it. They really were better fathers than Pythagoras or Nikolaus had ever been.

 

“It’s not him. There’s… there’s someone else who I did not bury. I’m sure her body was cared for by the other Daughters of Artemis, but I should have been there. She was a lover of mine, from Phocis.”

 

“We cannot always be there for the deaths of the ones we love,” Herodotus assured. “Least of all, us travelers.”

 

“You don’t understand. I killed her.”

 

Barnabas and Herodotus shared a look. They knew damn well that Kassandra was a fierce warrior who had killed an uncountable amount of people― that she was responsible for the assassinations of political leaders and generals. But to kill a lover was still a grim notion.

 

The heat from the funeral pyre dug into her back, even sitting some distance away.

 

“You know all the beasts I’ve been hunting? The pelts I bring aboard the ship? All the trips to Phocis over the years? Daphnae was the priestess who had challenged me to Artemis’s hunt, and once I had brought her the last pelt, she met me in Chios and told me I had to fight her for leadership of the Daughters of Artemis.”

 

“And you said yes?” the historian asked.

 

“I tried to say no, that I loved her, but she wouldn’t have it. She said I was tearing her between duty and love, and that her devotion to Artemis was her life’s work. I gave in, and agreed to the fight, but I wasn’t trying to kill her. I thought maybe if I knocked her out we could consider that a draw. I chose a simple staff, she chose a sword, and would have been fine to die by her hand after all this time. At first, the fight was well balanced. She fought like Artemis herself and almost finished me off with a well-timed stab. But… I panicked and thrust Leonidas’s spear, a weapon that never fails to kill.”

 

And now she was doomed to live forever. If only she had not taken the Staff from her father, she would meet her end in some Peloponnesian battle and reunite with Daphnae in Elysium.  

 

“But why couldn’t you be there for her burial?” Barnabas asked.

 

Kassandra pulled out the Spear of Leonidas and ran her thumb along the intricate markings that had evolved as she’d upgraded it in the ancient forge. Still perfectly clean and unmarked, as though she hadn’t fought thousands of enemies with it.

 

“One of the elder huntresses, a healer, she… she turned the Daughters against me after Daphnae died. We had agreed before the fight that whoever survived would rule the group, but almost immediately she screamed and began firing arrows at me. Maybe they didn’t expect me to win. I don’t know.”

 

“If the gods will you to see her body again, they will grant you that respect. You are a hero.”

 

She smiled at Barnabas’ encouragement, but still felt a grim darkness at the whole ordeal. Something wasn’t right.

 

  


She stumbled through the strange ruins, unsure of her direction. This place was made of such geometrically accurate shapes and fascinating glowing lights that she knew it to be a place of gods, or certainly someone immortal. This felt very, very familiar.

 

_“Interesting. The hero’s spear seems to have activated your genetic sequence. I wonder if I can calibrate it to do so in every incarnation?”_

 

_“If you could, please, I would appreciate that. Will you give me a moment alone with her?”_

 

_“Of course. I have allotted this time segment for you to communicate. Persephone shouldn’t notice the distortion in the programing, but do choose your wording wisely. I can’t bring you back again after this.”_

 

_“You won’t need to. As long as she can prepare for future incarnates, I will be at peace with you destroying my simulation.”_

 

Daphnae blinked and tried to focus. They were in some sort of shifting, broken world. Pieces of metal, or perhaps mere illusions, floated over her head as though they were being carried by the river Styx. Perhaps they were.

 

_“Greetings, hunter. You are practically a reflection. You are very interesting. I am proud of you.”_

 

The poor woman could barely make out the blurry image, some sort of moving mosaic perhaps, attempting to speak to her. Daphnae attempted to get closer and reached out, grasping onto what she thought of as the other person’s wrist.

 

_“I appreciate your sentiment of contact, I really do. I always felt myself closer to the humans, as did Veritas. You may also know of her as Aletheia. I wish my species could experience the emotions you do. But… I suppose in a way I can. You just need a push to be activated. It has happened before, but the previous incarnations were so spread apart in time that we have accomplished very little.”_

 

“We?” Daphnae asked, confused.

 

_“Yes, we. You are one of us. Equal to me in mind and memory. In, as humans would say, soul. You are but one of thousands of reincarnations of me.”_

 

“I am your afterlife, so to speak?”

 

The image, sharpening by the second, seemed to ponder this with a clever sort of smile, as though Daphnae had delighted her.

 

_“Yes. I enjoy that metaphor. It is most appropriate of your mythologies, some of which rings true, some of which does not. I did not take particular animal symbols, as your religion suggests. I did enjoy using a weapon similar to what you would understand to be a ‘bow’, but I did not swear against marriage in an oath made to Jupiter, as they would have you believe. Nor was he my father. Merely a fellow scientist and warrior.”_

 

“Who is Jupiter?”

 

The projection, a beautiful woman with startlingly golden eyes, seemed to soften her face into one of sorrow, “ _Your people know him as Zeus. He died desperately defending the grand temple from those who would release Juno. We destroyed his remains, as we predicted an outcomes where the ones who will call themselves ‘Abstergo’ would utilize his genetics to create… unspeakable horrors. But he did manage to calculate a successful recording for Desmond, leading him to that very same temple in the year 2012.”_

 

“Pardon me, did you say Zeus? You mean to say you are an equal to him? A god?”

 

The shapes and strange metals around her flashed a brilliant golden. The woman seemed to grow more frantic and she surged forward to grip Daphnae’s shoulders, forcing eye contact.

 

_“Listen to me. You will learn, in time, who we were and what we did. You only have two thousand years, give or take, to hone your mind to its former glory. No offense. Aletheia has granted us this brief contact but I cannot provide you with more support. I am sorry. I never meant for it to end this way. Had I known that the process would not be as precise as Aita’s, I would have waited. I would have prepared. But we were desperate.”_

 

“You’re not making any sense!” the Persian woman exclaimed.

 

_“I know. I am sorry. Return to Phocis. Find the hero. Above all else, keep using the spear to ignite your memories. She will be of extreme importance in that regard, but when Layla’s time arrives, there will be a choice to make, and we could not see past that point.”_

 

All of it returned. In a strange moment, Daphne realized that she was looking in herself, in some sort of futuristic mirror. No, using an advanced electromagnetic circuit that interrupted Persephone’s Elysium illusion long enough to broadcast wavelengths of Diana’s simulation.

 

But how in the name of Actaeon could she possibly know that? She had no idea what any of that was, and yet she did.

 

“You’re Artemis.”

 

_“That was a name I used at one point, yes. In our ‘culture’, if you could call it that, Isu take many names throughout their life to represent changes in their lives. Artemis was the name they gave me when I fought in the wars. Then, it became Diana as I advocated for human rights.”_

 

“But you were born Myera.”

 

Diana smiled, _“Ah. Your mind has, indeed, been reactivated by the spear. You may need more time to remember other things. Not that there’s much to remember.”_

 

“Who is it, in this lifetime? Where is Aita?”

 

_“I don’t know. The past incarnations, at least those that were successfully activated, did not interact with him. The Sage, as he called himself, supposedly has a defining trait. I do not know it.”_

 

“This is leaving me with more questions than answers. Is there a way to contact you again?”

 

Diana looked remorseful. Mortal. She shook her head.

 

_“We’re lucky, extraordinarily lucky, that Aletheia did what she could to allow this transgression. Perhaps luckier for me, than for you.”_

 

“Why?”

 

Again, that sadness in her eyes. Daphnae knew there was more to the story than could be spoken; that was the nature of the Olympians. Though… with her memories returned, she equally understood that this was a greater matter than gods and heroes. Perhaps it was the nature of the Isu as well.

 

_“Know that I do not wish to patronize you… but someday you will understand.”_

 

Daphnae nodded. It would be best to leave it. Not to pry. She would not anger her beloved Artemis, even if, in a bizarre way, she _was_ some version of Artemis. Perhaps Diana knew less than she let on. And… though she had memories, curious glimpses of past lives, she did not fully understand the dynamic between Aita and Diana and Aletheia. To say nothing of Minerva, Jupiter, and Juno. And the others. Daphne could vaguely recall them. A younger Isu, full of verve, who kept one name throughout his entire existence; Apollo. A kind, gentle architect who focused on harnessing and routing energy across the entire planet; Vesta. And many more, some who supported the humans. Some who did not.

 

The huntress remembered Aita. He was not a cruel man towards other Isu. In fact, many would consider his sacrifice in the name of research to be a praiseworthy act of selflessness. But, he was a slavemaster, and unkind towards his pawns.

 

Artemis flickered in and out, as her projection begun to fade.

 

“Wait!” Daphnae cried out.

 

A hand raised to her cheek, and despite all her willpower she could feel tears streaming down her face. Even in an Isu simulation, such a human act was possible.

 

“Was it worthless? The prayers? The sacrifices? The Hunt?”

 

The golden eyed Isu didn’t even hesitate. Her smile was… everything Daphnae had ever imagined when she dreamed of what Artemis would look like.

 

_“I have heard all your worship throughout your lifetime. I admire your rituals with a great pride. What is our fight if not the right to be human, to perform deeds such as these? I would give anything to have lived a life as interesting as the goddess you adore.”_

 

The image flickered, and Daphnae only saw her reflection caressing her cheek. Then, everything faded to a dull and quiet black.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I would flush out as much character for Diana but now I've got something going with her. I think I like it??? Leave comments!


	5. Metamorphoses

422 B.C.E.

 

Her toes dug into the pristine white sand, the heat burning the soles of her feet yet bringing her a moment of clarity. Sure, Chios, Lesbos, and Euboia were beautiful in that way that the northern islands were, lands of eternal fall. Full of wolves and bears with more predictable ways of thinking rather than lions and sharks. But here, there were hundreds of small islands hidden here and there too small to host a town but certainly hosting secrets. Exotic was a good word for it, yet a more tempered word could be “worthy”. Worthy to be the birthplace of Artemis and Apollo. 

 

Across the passage of water lay Delos. Several large triremes patrolled and protected both islands, and dozens of little fishing boats darted here and there like the fish themselves to gather food for the people.  Here, the water shined a beautiful teal, the shade of rare gemstones. She wanted to spend the rest of her life just wading in such inviting water and drinking wine in the shade of towering palms.

 

The Statue of Artemis Agrotera was legendary. In all her years, she had not made the trip to see it. How ironic that, after learning this strange truth, she found herself at the goddess's moss-covered feet. 

 

Amphoras and plates decorated the altar at its base, yet she knelt and lit a candle to bring her own offerings. Some food from the village, some from the forest. Others were here, civilians and soldiers, all whispering their worries and wants to her goddess. 

 

Daphnae knelt and took a deep breath.

 

“Arte― Diana. Diana of Triagos City. I remember you. Warrior and fighter for the Humans. If it is  _ you  _ listening, I pray for the safety of the women I call family. Of the one I love most. Their wellbeing brings me great verve and hope; what I need to worship you. Artemis, let this Hunt of my enemies be swift and without struggle, for this is a prey I cannot kill without killing a part of myself.”

 

The face of the great statue remained unresponsive. What cause would it have to answer her prayers, though? Daphnae was practically praying to herself. 

 

“I offer a deer from these, your sacred lands. Perhaps one you spotted when you were just a child under Leto’s protective gaze. It is the desire of every huntress to hone her instincts and aim to your legendary reputation... I only hope that I can live up to Diana’s, as well.”

 

Someone knelt down beside her. A hand took hers. But it felt tense rather than relaxed. She didn’t dare move her face to look at this stranger.

 

“A cultist is behind you, watching the every move of the people here.”

 

Daphnae recognized that voice, even at a whisper, and her heart filled with joy. She glanced down at Aminta’s bow in front of her and felt the hunting knife she’d purchased in Mykonos City at her hip. Though her shot was almost perfect, it would be quicker to throw the knife. The hand slipped out of hers and placed a silver bowl at the altar, just so. 

 

“Artemis!” she said aloud, “Tell me what it is I seek!”

 

Thalia gave a deep bow as though she were praying, whispering back, “He’s wearing a red chiton. Black hair.”

 

Daphnae glanced around until she realized that the bowl Thalia had placed down had been polished within an inch of its life. Perfectly reflective, though distorted enough that she would need to act quickly when she turned around. His expression looked particularly cruel. 

 

From beneath her cloak, she pulled the knife out of her leather belt at a snail’s pace. She could see the cultist moving closer in the reflection.

 

“How did you know I was alive?” she whispered to Thalia.

 

“No one else aims for the feet when they fire,” the huntress said, lightly pointing to the sacrifice at the base of the statue. “It’s your signature shot.” 

 

“I don’t like letting my prey get away.”

 

Then, she turned and threw the knife, Thalia drawing her bow beside her. The blade struck the man in the shoulder, causing him to stagger, and before he could raise his spear, Thalia’s arrow cleanly pierced his heart. Those praying around them, including soldiers, moved away with gasps and blatant fear. 

 

“Was he sent here to murder me?” Daphnae asked.

 

“Depends on the people who are aware that you’re alive. Not to steal your thunder, but I think he meant to kill me.”

 

“Why?”

 

They searched the body, finding a seal with the symbol of the cult, some loose drachmae, and a small pouch of poisonous herbs. Daphnae pried the spear out of his hands and they left him for the crowd. Together, they walked deep into the Mykonos forest, far enough away from the war and city that they could speak openly. Daphnae pulled her friend into a long hug.

 

“We all thought you… I watched you die, Daphnae.”

 

“I thought I was dead, as well. What about the misthios?”

 

“She would have died too, but she’s too clever for that. Some sort of flash of bright light from her spear stunned those who attempted to attack her under Klymene’s orders. Makes me wonder if she planned this before you brought Kassandra to Chios.”

 

“Do you think Klymene’s change of heart has anything to do with our visitor at the statue?” 

 

Thalia nodded, “Almost certainly. I don’t know how to tell you this… it’s painful.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Not every huntress could be tempted by Klymene. A battle broke out after your funeral, huntresses began taking sides between those who wanted to follow her and those loyal to your dying wish of Kassandra’s leadership. Though, I suppose she did not win the duel after all. But… regardless… the huntresses are split in half. The eastern side of our Aegean camps vie for her leadership, the western camps fight for your legacy. The camps Phedrea, Lais, Danaides, and all of Lamia have pledged loyalty to  Kassandra. There are others, but they have chosen to be quieter in their support. Makedonia and Malis are safest, I think Phokis is being watched.”

 

“But… how does this tie us to the cultist?” Daphnae asked, her confusion growing.

 

“Some of the others report a man visiting Klymene before you even arrived on Chios. He met her outside the village and gave her… some sort of orb. I think it is what bewitches huntresses to follow her command.”

 

The Apples of Eden. She could remember them from Diana’s life. They were dangerous tools lying around for these modern men to pick up and play with. 

 

“And the man was a member of the Cult of Kosmos?”

 

“Their guards rode with him,” Thalia nodded. “Protected him. And… there have been whispers among those of us still rebelling. Huntresses found dead. We’re worried that he and his cult are behind it.”

 

“How long have I been in that cave?”

 

“A week.”

 

All of this happening in a week? Daphnae sat down at a fallen log and buried her head in her hands. The huntresses followed her, but it was never anything more than a family devoted to a beloved goddess. Kassandra had warned her about the Cult years ago, that they had their hands in every part of the Greek world. But she never expected this. 

 

“What do we do?” Thalia asked. 

 

“You said Malis was safe?”   

 

“Yes, do you mean to lead from Lamia?”

 

“No… there’s something else there that could connect the Cult to the Huntresses. Or rather, there used to be.”

 

Some small recognition sparked in Thalia’s eyes, but she didn’t press. She took Daphnae’s hand and pulled her to her feet, handing her a quiver of arrows.

 

“You’re going to want a better bow than that. There is a priestess of Artemis in Mykonos City. She’s safe. Helped destroyed Cult influence here years ago. She can help us get to Malis  _ and  _ we can get you better weapons.”

 

“Who is she?”

 

Thalia smirked and motioned for Daphnae to follow her through the forest. The night sky was beginning to creep up upon the Aegean, and the chariot of Artemis had snuck into view. A good omen.

 

“Her name is Kyra.”

  
  


 

43 B.C.E.

  
  


The dry golden grass here felt itchy, combined with a heat that Kassandra could not stand. It seemed that, though the staff prevented her from dying, it did not prevent her from great discomfort. Not to mention all the strange bugs and snakes and whatnot in this land that could crawl into her armor. She squirmed out of her hiding spot and perched atop a rock instead. Though the Romans called these lands The Green Mountains, they were only so because of the cedar trees dotted here and there, and what little grain farming they could achieve from foothill creeks. Kassandra had a great respect for the Egyptians for taming this land, but it only made her realize that she grew up in a very agreeable climate.

Farmers and soldiers walked past her as though she were invisible, lounging atop the rock that gave her a decent view of the fort to the north. Kyrenaika Roman Citadel, according to locals. The place where Stentor had been buried. Hmph… better protected by Imperial Romans than these Alexandrian Greeks. Macedonians so foreign to the warriors Kassandra had known and fought almost two centuries ago that she, too, would rebel against them if they had colonized her homeland.

 

“Filthy Siwan! Did you really think you could sneak through these lands without us noticing?”

 

Her eyes fell upon a woman in white robes, surrounded by Roman soldiers. Her sword and shield were drawn but she made no move to attack, instead stalling her opponents as she studied them. Kassandra couldn’t help but admire the skill and experience this woman clearly showed. 

 

“I am Alexandrian. If you meant to speak with my husband, I could arrange to have him kill you instead of me. Of course, that would take a great deal of time and I do not have all day to dance with you.”

 

They lunged towards the woman, but she was absolutely spectacular, practically turning into a blur as she fought. Kassandra stood and dusted her misthios armor off, letting out a soft groan as she picked up her bow and drew an arrow. The captain never saw it coming as it pierced through the finely conditioned leather of his helmet and sent him flying into the dirt. 

 

“Hey!” the Alexandrian protested, locking her sword against a foot soldier, “These ones are mine!”

 

The Staff of Hermes Trismegistus had been cleverly disguised as a spear, equally deadly as Kassandra took out a heavier guard who had his shield faced towards the white robed woman. Together, the two of them faced back to back and defeated the remaining opponents without any struggle. 

 

“I don’t often fight, it’s not smart for someone who needs to hide as I do.”

 

The blade sprang from the woman’s wrist and rested against her neck. Kassandra didn’t flinch, but couldn’t hold back her chuckle.

 

“Well… I haven’t seen one of those in a while. Looks like it’s been modified somewhat. Hopefully smoother, but I imagine it will be a few centuries before you people make the contraption work the way you want it to, hmm?”

 

“Tell me who sent you or I will cut your throat and spill your blood on this road.”

 

Kassandra finally could stare into her face… and felt a great disappointment. It wasn’t  _ her _ . The Spartan just knew, somehow. The Alexandrian’s eyes were not that perfect golden that Kassandra was expecting, but instead a deep, piercing brown. She threw up her hands in mock surrender.

 

“I only wish to sneak into that fort. To see my brother.”

 

“And you could have used my fight as a distraction. If I had alerted the citadel, you would have had the opportunity to circle around while reinforcements arrived.”

 

“I could have. But… I thought you were someone I was looking for.”

 

“Oh? Many look for me.”

 

“Yes, yes, I know, you’re fighting the Ancient Ones, and all that. I’ve been there, they’re like weeds, the malakas just keep growing back.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I’m well informed on current events.”

 

“And what is your name, you who dresses like a misthios?”

 

Kassandra smiled, brushing the desert dirt off her armor, “Luddia. Of Samos.”

 

“Samos? That’s a long way from here.”

 

“So is Alexandria.” 

 

The woman pulled the white hood back, revealing beautiful black braids and a weathered face. The hidden blade clicked back into its rightful place and she bent down to pick up her sword and shield. 

 

“I am Aya. If what you say about the fort is true, I will help you get in. You seem to be a capable enough fighter… but are you stealthy?”

 

_ Well, no one can tell I’m immortal.  _

 

“Enough to sneak in and out unseen. I will only be a moment in there. What do you need in return?”

 

“Documents confirming the identity of… how do you know what an Ancient One is?” Aya asked, her suspicion returning. 

 

Kassandra chuckled, “Ah. They were called the Cult of Kosmos many decades ago. Same methods. Foothold in every part of the world. Causing chaos in the name of order. Secret society and all that. It wasn’t hard to tell that the group had rebirthed itself in this civilization.”

“Yes… I remember my parents telling me about the Cult. It can’t exactly be common knowledge in Samos, though. I was told that someone practically erased their existence two hundred years ago.”

 

“The gods bless that hero, then. Shall we be off?”  

 

Aya narrowed her eyes, but signaled for “Luddia” to follow her up the path towards the citadel. Kassandra knocked an arrow to her bowstring and gave a hint of a smirk to no one in particular. 

  
  


  
  


 

 

422 B.C.E.

  
  


“Mater?”

 

“Yes, lamb?”

 

“What do you consider love to be?”

 

Myrrine sat down on the edge of the Adrestia with her daughter, the waves splashing up against their feet and the taste of salt overpowering her senses. She reached out and ran her fingers through loose brown hair and smiled. Kassandra’s eyes flickered away from the horizon towards Nikolaos, Stentor, and Alexios, all in a heated argument with Barnabas over the charting of their next course. The others, even her daughter on occasion, continued to call him Deimos, but Myrrine refused to allow the Cult that victory. He was born Alexios, he would die Alexios. 

 

“It is very messy, Kassandra. It is made of fights and broken promises and lots and lots of forgiveness.”

 

“And  _ him _ ?”

 

She followed her daughter’s gaze towards Nikolaos, who had given up and paced towards the bow of the boat to talk to Herodotus. The two elderly men got along perfectly, both harboring more reserved tempers. Myrrine could feel a great pang in her heart but closed her eyes and let it float away. 

 

“I do love him, but it will never be as husband and wife. He and I have an obligation as parents to be there for you and Alexios. And… Stentor, I suppose. The boy needs a mother, after all.”

 

“What about Pythagoras?” Kassandra asked, noticeably glancing down at a golden bracelet adorning her wrist.

 

“He… no. I did not love him. I only knew him long enough to agree that we would make a child together. I was very, very young at the time. Had I known that it would have led to this…”

 

“You wouldn’t have had me.”

 

“You’re destined for great things, Kassandra. But no child should have to go through what you did. I know it sounds harsh, but if I had known, I would have spared you from that pain.”

 

Kassandra didn’t say anything, staring out at the open ocean. Myrrine wondered if these questions had something to do with the trip to Chios, but she knew that her daughter would shut down any questions she did not want to answer. Even with all the time they had spent apart, a mother knew how her daughter thought. A gentle breeze carried the ship, whipping the strands of her graying hair around and chilling her to the point of shivering. She huddled closer to Kassandra and pressed a kiss to the mercenary's cheek. Mercenary, that was a concept she would never get used to. There were thousands of memories that Myrrine would never be a part of, and mercenaries lived harsh lives. Just what had her daughter gone through to get here? 

 

“So, Kythera? What is there that we must conquer?”

 

“Another cultist. I had been there once to hunt something for a friend, but I didn’t stay long. A cultist named Harpalos had a note addressed from a woman who is after our bloodline. It mentioned another cultist I had killed a long time ago, so I imagine she’s aware of me coming to hunt her down. I have… I have been doing this for so long, mater.”

 

“You don’t have to do it alone now. This family is everything they fear. And we are all together. We will be, forever.”

 

“Forever is a long time,” Kassandra said bitterly.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Pythagoras is dead. But… he should have died a long time ago, right?”

 

Myrrine raised an eyebrow, “I suppose he should have.”

 

“And yet he made a child with you, almost thirty seven years ago. Don’t you think it was odd he lived for so many decades?”

 

“Yes. I assumed it had something to do with the bloodline, or the place he lived in. I never liked that Thera.”

 

Kassandra ran her thumb over the bracelet and Myrrine knew it wouldn’t be long before she told her mother the truth. 

 

“If I remember correctly,” the matron began, “Pythagoras had many famous theories about how the universe worked that made him famous. Belief that the world was split into four elements, about how vegetarianism was natural, that sort of thing. He was a philosopher, but I’m sure you’ve had your lifetime supply of them in Athens.”

 

Kassandra smiled, still looking out at the islands they sailed between. Myrrine could see a statue wielding a bow in the distance, perhaps the Delian league, but thought nothing of it. Paros and Naxos and this entire tropical paradise were no longer her home. Though she sent letters to Timo on occasion, she had given up that life for the one she truly missed most. The rough mountains of Lakonia suited her, the jagged rocks and rolling hills had made her who she was. Not vineyards. Not white sand. She glanced down at her father's spear resting on Kassandra's back for a moment, then continued;

 

“Then again, I believe it was Pythagoras who proposed that life is a state of fluidity, that the soul is reborn again and again. Metamorphoses. Change. Perhaps… perhaps he was right. He knew secrets of the ancient civilization that are lost now, as he was always a stubborn ass. But it's not so hard to believe that, Gods willing, people come back. Perhaps you will see us again someday.”

 

Her daughter’s turned around with lightning speed. The expression on Kassandra’s face was confusion and fear, as though she were a child caught in the marketplace with a stolen trinket. 

 

“You know?” she asked.

 

“Of course. I knew the moment you told me he was dead. I knew he must have left it to you. There’s no way the Cult would be able to get their hands on it… and the only way he could have died was giving it up, willingly. Like I said, had I known that it would have led to this… I would have spared you from this fate, Kassandra.”

 

“I’m supposed to hold onto it for a woman who needs it. But I do not know when I will meet her. It could be years.”

 

“It could be centuries,” Myrrine countered with a sad smile.

 

She brushed the flecks of saltwater off her chiton and pressed a kiss to Kassandra’s forehead, closing her eyes and resting there for a moment before standing up and joining the rest of the crew. Gods willing, Kassandra was right, and she wouldn’t have to outlive her family for as long as Pythagoras had.    

 

 

 

“I’ve arranged for passage on a Spartan boat headed to Makedonia, but you will need to travel by foot to Malis,” the priestess said.

 

“Can we trust the Spartans?”

 

“I may not lead these lands, but they will follow my orders; perhaps out of respect for Thele― for the leaders of the rebellion. Nevertheless, you will be safe.”

 

“Thank you. It’s not often that the Daughters of Artemis seek work with worshipers in the city.”

 

“Nonsense, you are as much of a priestess as I am,” Kyra smiled. “And you may sleep in the temple until the boat is ready to leave.”

 

Daphnae returned the smile and left the woman to her duties. She sensed there was a sad story there, but did not pry. Thalia took their weapons and placed them on hooks nailed to the wall, getting some padding and blankets ready for a long night’s rest. She chose to climb the sides of the wooden temple and sit on its roof, overlooking the islands of Mykonos and Delos, the statue of Artemis Agrotera, and the great ocean. Towards what she thought to be Seriphos, a bird of prey gently floated in the sky, following a ship that lazily sailed west.

 

_ It can’t be. _

 

But there was no mistaking the turquoise sails of the Adrestia. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: if you go to that exact fort in Assassin's Creed: Origins, you can find a bust of Kassandra. Aside from the hairstyle, it's almost exact.
> 
> Don't worry, they'll find each other. Eventually.


	6. The Amazons

422 B.C.E.

 

She loved the way Kassandra tasted. It felt perfect, as though the gods themselves had matched them, gazing and approving from the heavens as Daphnae gently bit into the mercenary’s collarbone. One hand threaded its fingers through her hair and the other perfectly molded against the small of her back, desperately pressing her up against her lover as though she were an ocean wave and Kassandra were a cliff. 

 

Her skin was smooth in some areas, scarred in others, but Daphnae wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, her body was the same way. Such different people, and yet incredibly similar in these intricate details. 

 

She pulled away and just took her time gazing into Kassandra’s eyes and grinning. What a legendary woman she had grown into, having seen the entire Greek world and slain countless worthy opponents... lazily resting in the arms of a mere priestess. A chuckle escaped her lips. Kassandra didn’t say anything, she just brushed the hair out of her eyes and they sat there, together, in silence. A deep breath in and a sigh. 

 

A moment of peace. 

 

Daphnae stirred awake from the sunlight peeking over the railing of the Spartan ship. They’d been asked to sleep outside, as the space within the hull was reserved for sheltering the actual soldiers. At least she had a blanket, but it didn’t stop her back from aching as she lifted herself from the wooden boards and glanced at the distant snowy mountains of Illyria and Thrace. 

 

She let the tears fall down her face, but made no noise. She didn’t desire the thought of the Spartan sailors approaching and seeing a huntress bawling her eyes out. This sorrow was for Kassandra, and Kassandra alone. 

 

 _I will see you again, if I have to kill every Cultist who stands in my way_ , she thought.

 

The thought did bring about the concern she’d been ignoring within, that she might, indeed, be forced to kill corrupt Daughters of Artemis. Daphnae would do everything she could to prevent such an outcome, but even a trusted leader had little sway over a Piece of Eden. But she knew now that her duty almost didn’t surpass the love she felt for the mercenary. If a Huntress would try to kill Kassandra, she would have to go through Daphnae first.

 

“Hey, Priestess, are you going to do anything about this loose rigging or are we transporting freeloaders?” an officer barked. 

 

She sighed and rolled up her blanket, nudging Thalia awake as the ship began picking up the pace, oars being retracted and sails flying out. The ocean spray hit her in the face and reminded her of the journey ahead of them. 

 

 

Spilling the blood of a cultists was not satisfying in the way it used to be. Now, it didn’t bring about a sense of accomplishment or fulfilled revenge as it did in those beginning days. Not with her brother beside her, giving Diona’s body a kick for good measure. 

 

“I remembered her voice. A worshipper of our blood… and one of the ones whose cruelty and madness knew no end.” 

 

“I’m glad you were here, Alexios. I might have guessed her sister if you had not recognized the knife she used.”

 

The man beside her tried to hide the twitch in his lip as he sheathed his sword and wandered down the hill away from the shrine to Aphrodite. He looked strange wearing leather armor and robes instead of the pristine white and golden outfit he’d practically been raised in, but it was for the best. She stayed behind and talked with Eritha, the twin sister, for a moment. The high priestess didn’t seem so upset that her kin had fallen by Kassandra and Alexios’ blades. 

 

Trotting down the hill, she spotted her brother standing by a merchant’s tent and gazing down at purchasable wares. Strange, she’d never had the need to buy things like bracelets and knick knacks, but he seemed as though he wanted to make a purchase. She caught up with him, coughing so as not to startle him. Stentor had learned the bad way why one should not sneak up upon a demigod (now sporting a new scar).

 

“Anything you want to get, I can pay for it,” Kassandra smiled. 

 

Alexios frowned for a moment, as though this was a cruel trick, and then returned to an expression of uncaring. He walked from stall to stall, letting his sister trail behind, until they reached the last store. That of a fletcher’s.

 

“I thought you had a bow?” she blurted. “I distinctly remember you firing at me on Andros Island.”

 

“That was a mere twig held together by grass. It might be nice to have a real one.”

 

“Have you trained in archery?” 

 

It wasn’t often that a family member asked him about his past. Kassandra was the one who could get him to open up, but only because she had spent the most time with him over the years. Be it fighting or confronting each other, they knew each other a little better than the others. He picked up one of the merchant’s heavier arrows and twirled it in his fingers.

 

“Somewhat, enough to defend myself. But… I’m not a perfect shot. I didn’t need to be, when I could walk right up and cut my enemies down.”

 

She glanced at an old, weathered dog falling asleep in the dirt road for a few moments. Its breathing. Its peace. The old fleabag calmed her somewhat, reminding her of life on Kephallonia. People rushed past them but they remained where they were, silent and still. Deimos... Alexios seemed hesitant. 

 

“I can teach you. The way mater taught me.”

 

“A-Are you sure?”

 

Kassandra gently reached up and held his face for a moment, feeling a spark of joy that he didn’t flinch at the contact. Her hands fell quickly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, then she turned and purchased the merchant’s best bow. 

 

Alexios walked closer to her on the walk out of town than he had coming in. She felt somewhat victorious and let out a happy sigh.

 

“I’m sure the crew would be happy if we brought fresh meat for our next voyage.”

 

“Where are we headed?”

 

“I’m thinking Lakonia for a bit. Settle down for a month and make plans. We have two more Sages to catch, as far as I know. And.. then we find the Ghost.”

 

“Dione’s clue should help, right?”

 

“Right, brother. Now, crouch low, stay in the grass. Every single thing you step on will make noise, so it’s up to you to know what is on the ground in a radius, understand?”

 

Alexios let out a huff, “I know how to sne―”

 

“You know how to get the better of someone,” Kassandra said. “But can you truly turn invisible?” 

 

There was a pause, and for a moment it seemed they would come to blows. Since Taygetos, they’d had a few scraps over various disagreements, three new scars and several new insults added to her vocabulary. But it never accumulated into enough to anger her. She knew what he had gone through. He knew that she would do anything for him. It was enough to restore an equilibrium. Plus, whenever Myrinne found out, she would assign the sibling in the wrong to a day’s worth of chores under Stentor’s watch. And _that_ was enough to quell the demigods. 

 

“Show me, then.”

 

Kassandra grinned and gently pushed his shoulder to spin him around. Then, a decade’s experience kicking in, she gently made her way around the bushes and using Ikaros to determine where Alexios would walk next. Her brother seemed to play along at first, then genuinely building a confusion as to where she had gone.

 

She shot an arrow at a tree before moving, using her spear to turn invisible and slipping just past him. Back in the grass, she let the illusion drop before readying her spear for another attack. The Isu weapon glowed and hummed for a moment before darting forward, taking her with it as time and space bent around her. She collided against her brother, knocking him to the ground and allowing her to plant the broken spear at his chest.

 

“How did you― ah… it functions like the Sword of Demokles?” 

 

It seemed he wasn’t even angry at being bested. Certainly a different man than when she’d first met him.  

 

“Somewhat. I think that, no offense, the mixture of my bloodline between Mater and my true father blesses me further.”

 

Alexios nodded, pensive and curious. He had been told about Pythagoras, but didn’t seem to be angry that the philosopher was not related to him. Then again, Kassandra herself was somewhat jealous. At least Nikolaus was here and trying, and Alexios would get a birth father who made an effort. 

 

“So, where did you learn the arrow trick? It threw me completely off.”

 

Kassandra nodded, “It was a trick I learned from the Daughters of Artemis. Their combat archery is completely different from their hunting archery. It’s all quite fascinating.”

 

“The Daughters of Artemis? They’re still active?”

 

She studied Alexios’s face for a moment, his eyes in a shock and surprise that she couldn’t understand. Kassandra sat down on a nearby rock and gently used a stone to sharpen the edges of Lionedas’ spear. 

 

“Yes. Technically, I’m the leader, but I don’t think that ever came to fruition. Remember the week I was on Chios while you and Mater were tracking down that Ares worshipper?”

 

“Ah. Yes. That village is their famed territory.”

 

She recounted the duel, and what followed. Then, she backtracked, and explained who Daphnae had been to her. Alexios listened patiently, but she could tell he was far more interested in the group than in her tragic love story. She wrapped up the story about the animals she’d been sent to hunt and let him finally have his chance to speak. 

 

“There was a man. A cultist. He wasn’t quite part of the inner circles, but had some sway. A trainer of the Cult soldiers.”

 

“And?”

 

Alexios shot her a look, and Kassandra chided herself internally. It wasn’t often that he opened up about his time as Deimos, even to her. She needed to remain serious and respectful. 

 

“He wanted that group dead. Wanted to wipe the forest clean of the Artemis worshippers. I don’t even know if it was the huntresses or a personal vendetta against the goddess herself,” her brother warned. “But he didn’t care about the other goals of the Cult of Kosmos… it was just the Huntresses.”

 

Kassandra nearly slipped the stone she’d been using. This close to losing a finger in anger with her own spear. She glanced up at Alexios and shrugged.

 

“I don’t care what happens to them anymore.”

 

“You said you lead them?”

 

“No. If our goal leads us to this man you speak of, I will take him out. But the huntresses, and perfect, wise Klymene, can handle this on their own. They made it perfectly clear what they would do if they saw me again.”

 

 

 1868 C.E.

 

Evie had this under perfect control. Everything was going to plan, and they would be in and out of the Kenway mansion without any alarms raised. Thank goodness Henry was a competent Assassin, and not just a librarian who sat behind a desk. 

 

Though the Assassins had developed multiple fascinating tools over the centuries to remove opponents silently, nothing topped a good old fashioned throwing knife. She sent the projectile into the head of a female Blighter and whistled, awaiting the investigation of the male thug. Just as she could feel the vibrations of his footsteps through the ground, Evie moved around the corner and stabbed him with the hidden blade. 

 

Across the road, she watched Henry casually strike up a conversation with two Blighters before stealing their purses and running down the road, prompting them to chase. 

 

“And that’s the exterior of the mansion cleared,” the Frye woman chuckled. 

 

The interior proved just as easy. The strange vision that allowed her to see through walls, feeling heartbeats and hearing someone two floors away, guided her from room to room. Here and there she found bits and pieces that Edward Kenway had kept from his former life. Cutlasses and pistols, maps and letters. Even the First Civilization glass vials she’d poured over in the Assassin records, though useless for what she wanted to accomplish. 

 

A red bandana in an old leather case piqued her interest. She knew that Haytham, who had inherited the house, had been respectful enough to leave the memorabilia alone. So why was this here? 

 

She turned it over and saw the miniscule Assassin symbol sewn into the inside. How fascinating it was to hold a cloth that was over a century in age, and knowing it had this intimate meaning. Perhaps she could use it to make something similar for the Rooks. 

 

“Forgive me for taking this, Mentor Kenway. It will be put to good use.”

 

Henry walked through the front door, with a jaunty stride in his step, and gave her a wave. She walked down the stairs and joined him in the piano room as they continued to look for clues. 

 

“According to one of the blueprints back at the train, there is a hidden room below this one,” he sighed. “But how do we access it without leaving evidence we were here?”

 

“Or worse, setting off a trap.”

 

They muddled through the adjacent rooms as well, searching for anything that could help them. Evie didn’t necessarily wish to depart from such a location rich in Assassin history as this, but she knew that the Templars wouldn’t stray their eyes for long from this place. 

 

She sat down in a chair to think, and glanced out the dining room window.

 

Someone was outside, in Kenway’s garden. Evie’s wrist instantly tensed and she could hear the click and whirr of her hidden blade unsheathing, but her eyes were too focused on the figure. A woman, in modern middle class fashions, gently laying flowers at the stone marker that indicated Kenway’s grave. No matter how much time she’d spent pouring over them, Evie never believed the Assassin records and rumors to be true. But _she_ was here, in the flesh. 

 

The legendary Spartan’s eyes met hers briefly, and then she was gone.

 

Not even a smoke bomb or a rope that could swing her to the nearest rooftop. It was as though she’d turned invisible. Evie burst through the doors and tried to see if she could spot the mythical woman, but she had vanished without a trace― almost exactly like an Assassin on a mission. 

 

“Evie! I think I figured out the secret passage!”

 

She gave the skylines one last glance and turned to follow Mr. Green’s voice.

 

The carriage ride back to the train station was filled with pure silence. Henry was busy musing about the Assassin records they’d found at Kenway’s mansion and Evie was preoccupied thinking about who she had seen. Why there and then? The woman only showed up once a century for a decade or so, only to disappear without a trace. 

 

Hell, the last person to see her had been Ratonhnhaké:ton, and even then he’d only briefly caught her for a few days.

 

“Why now?” she muttered aloud.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Sorry, Henry. I’m just… I’m just preoccupied by something I saw at the manor. But… you know what? I doubt it will help our mission. The… the goals of the two parties couldn’t be further.”

 

Henry gave her a kind smile she felt she did not deserve, “Miss Frye, you have confused me once again.’

 

The darling Frye brother greeted them at the train, ruffling her perfect hair with one of his filthy gloves. She briskly pushed past him and into the carriage with tables that she could work at. Henry looked as though he wished to join her, but thought better of it. The bookish Assassin instead chose to bother Abberline a few carriages down― shooting Evie a look that she couldn’t quite interpret. Jacob poured himself a drink as the train began taking off and plopped down across the aisle from her.

 

“What’s on your mind, Evie?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Silence, for a precious moment.

 

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“No.”

 

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to challenge you to a duel and beat it from you. We haven’t had a fist fight in a while and I know you’re getting rusty.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Can’t get better at fighting when all you do is crawl around like a cat.”

 

Evie looked up from her papers into the face of her brother, four inches from her own and grinning wildly. It was obvious he wanted adventure, even more so it was clear he wanted to annoy his sister.  

 

“Don’t you have a neighborhood to terrorize?”

 

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” Jacob smirked, finally sitting back down on the couch. “I’m catching a ride down to Alexander’s for some new bomb or what have you. You could come with me if you like.”

 

“I might. Depends on what I find in Mr. Kenway’s notes.”

 

A knock at the door captured the rapt attention of both twins. Every Rook in the gang would be terrified to interrupt the twins, and even Henry gave them their space post mission. There was only one person who felt collected and comfortable enough to saunter―

 

“Mornin’ Evie. Jacob. Heard you busted into a very fascinating little hovel a few hours ago and I thought I might check in about something you found.”

 

She glanced up at the American with a slight disdain. Obviously the Assassins trusted Ned enough to let him waltz around on their train with the bravado of a New York salesman-slash-thief, but there was still on air of sleaze to the man (it was all a bit of theatre, even if Jacob seemed to take a liking to it). Ned tipped his bowler hat and gave Evie a cocky smile that he only could have picked up from her brother before sitting down right across from her.

 

Evie coughed and covered Kenway’s documents with her arms before leaning in.

 

“What do you want, Wynert?”

 

Quick to the point, he rubbed his hands together and adjusted his glasses.

 

“Henry told me about the mansion. Got to admit, it’s always been on my bucket list to go. I have a soft spot for pirates, given my background. And the man was legendary. Practically invincible, physically and economically. Who doesn’t love a cocky scallywag?”

 

Evie glanced over at her lounging brother, sipping at his whiskey, then back to Ned.

 

“I prefer men who know the value of a silent moment.”

 

Ned gave her one of his signature grins and nodded, “Point taken. I won’t steal much more of your time, Ms. Frye. It’s all a long winded way of saying Henry told me you found a bandana at Edward Kenway’s place and I want to purchase it from you.”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, let him have it, ‘s only a piece of cloth,” Jacob muttered from beneath his hat.

 

Evie put a wrist on top of the red bandana, the Assassin’s logo peeking out from underneath her hidden blade. Ned straightened his posture and gently wove his fingers together in a seriousness she rarely viewed from him. 

 

“Ms. Frye. That bandana has no financial value. You could donate it to a museum, but hardly anyone would care for it given that almost no living person knows who it belongs to. _Belonged_ to, I should say. Now, I have a mighty fine wallet sitting in my coat pocket ready to pay for any and all expenses the Rooks might have. New curtains in the train, a few new employees, or maybe just nothing but bullets for a month? I can cover it.”

 

“For a tattered cloth?”

 

“It’s a present for the missus,” Ned smiled.

 

Jacob lifted his cap off his eyes, “Since when did you get married?”

 

“What you don’t know about me could fill books, Frye. How about it, Evie?”

 

The woman lifted her wrist off of the bandana for a moment, long enough for Ned’s fingers to rest on it before whipping it off the table and more closely inspecting it. Far as she could tell, though, it was just a mere accessory. Certainly not a key to some First Civilization vault. Really the only detail about it that had caught her eye was the miniscule Assassin’s symbol intricately embroidered in. Evie looked Ned dead in his golden eyes, unfazed by his strange seriousness. 

 

“Tell me who it belonged to.” 

 

“Someone very special to my missus. You understand?”

 

“It’s over a century old. A relative of hers?”

 

Ned shrugged and gave her a grin, “Family, in a way. It won’t see any harm and I mean no ill. I’ll pay you ten thousand for it.”

 

To her left, she could hear Jacob sputtering on his drink, but Evie didn’t budge. She attempted to read Wynert’s face as best she could but didn’t pick up any insight as to his intentions. His mouth smirked but his eyes looked more dangerous than she’d ever assumed of a train and boat robber. 

 

The Rooks could use the money. And Evie had spotted a new pistol that she could use for certain… activities. Ten thousand was a grand fortune. 

 

“Fine. You don’t have that money now do you?”

 

Ned shrugged, “Partially. Send me an invoice for the rest. You know I’m good for it.”

 

He opened his wallet and put a wad of cash on the table, and sure enough, at least half of what he had promised unfurled. Clearly, the man had planned to walk away with this token no matter what. Though she knew it wasn’t something Kenway himself personally prized, Evie struggled to remember what this particular item was. Defeated, she slid the bandana across the table and studied Ned’s face. As his fingers rested on the fabric, his mouth twitched just so. As though a memory― a painful memory― were being revisited.

 

“Right then. I look forward to doing business with you in the future Mr. and Ms. Frye. You have certainly just put yourself in my good graces!”

 

With that, Ned stood, spun, and strode out of the train carriage, his boots clacking against the metal floor. The door slid behind him and the bank notes bounced against the table, the only evidence that he was here. Evie collected them and placed them in the lock box near the rest of their valuables.

 

“The man’s nuts, isn’t he?”

 

“Shut up, Jacob.”

 

 

422 B.C.E.

 

The cave, while reinhabited by beasts once more, showed no sign of human life. Their hunting training kicked in and a few Huntresses acting as sentinels utilized paralysis arrows to knock the bears out long enough for Daphnae to creep into the cave. Thalia followed her.

 

She almost walked right over the unburied skeletal remains of Zoisme, having had years to succumb to the flies and the decay.

 

“Chaire, bitch,” Daphnae muttered. 

 

The cave had been mostly undisturbed, likely as a result of the bears living outside. That, and not a lot of people ventured this deep into Malis. She searched through weapons, pelts, and various cultish charms until she came across a wooden box with a latch. Inside were papers and letters referencing various Cult plots she knew Kassandra had stopped… but one of the pieces of correspondence caught her interest. 

 

_Zoisme,_

 

_Malaka! What were you thinking, shooting that girl? I have gone to great lengths to cover up your role in the Worshippers and this is the path you take? You’re a Huntress, you’re meant to use silence as your shroud. Openly killing a civilian dressed as a Daughter of Artemis will have political ramifications that I won’t be able to control. I know the Cult has a plan for our group, but at least communicate with me. The next time anything like this happens, I won’t be able to keep the Incarnate’s attention away from you._

 

_Pandora had been right about the girl― she sees more than most human eyes. I understand why the cult wants her but these things take time. I can give her to Kosmos without you destroying the reputation of the Daughters in the process._

 

_Klymene_

 

Her fingers trembled slightly in anger, but equally in relief. Now she had her proof that Klymene was not who she had seemed to be for so long. Yes, this letter was at least a decade old, but Daphnae needed every clue she could find to piece this puzzle together. 

 

“Pandora knew about me? How?”

 

Thalia perked up, “Did you say something?”

 

“Erm… no… just musing. I found a letter proving Klymene was working with Zoisme, who was a cultist Kassandra killed. Everything makes sense now. She’d been attempting to control the Daughters from the shadows while I led without a second thought. I have no doubt she was with the ones who killed Pandora, ‘failing’ to heal the leader so that she could remove her opposition.”

 

Thalia gently took the letter, warmly holding Daphnae’s hand as she read it.

 

“I never expected Klymene’s treachery to run this deep. But.. it makes sense. Anyone who would murder a child in the street as one of us certianly meets the profile of one who picks off Huntresses in the forest. Who is the girl she speaks of?”

 

“It’s probably not important,” Daphnae hesitated. “Perhaps they speak of Kassandra. This would have been right before the misthios began picking off the Cult.”

 

Their eyes met, and she could tell that Thalia saw through her. But her loyal lieutenant dropped the subject.

 

“Shall we take the others back to the village?”

 

“Aye.”

 

Lamia bustled with Daughters as though they weren’t fighting for their lives right now. Casual conversations struck up here and there and beasts meandering around as bows were strung and songs were sung. For a moment, everything seemed peaceful. 

 

Here and there, she could see warriness on the faces of her comrades. They had watched Daphnae die, yet here she was― healthy as a centaur. No one dramatically proclaimed her to be some sort of impostor, but Daphnae could still feel disbelief and tension among their words. 

 

It was a few days of planning and organizing before the population doubled with other Huntresses. From as far south as Messenia and Lakonia, and a few defectors from Aegean islands. All in all, about five or six dozen women stood before her, strong and ready to fight. They seemed skeptical at the patchwork, scavenged armor Daphnae had slipped into, rather than the tunic that had signified her status as a priestess for so long. Her typical circlet had been swapped out for a metal headpiece that would warrant her a bit more protection. All in all, the look was unfamiliar, yet felt natural. 

 

Given Klymene’s influence with the Apple of Eden, Daphnae knew they were outnumbered three to one. They needed this change. 

 

“We are being hunted by remnants of the Cult of Kosmos. Klymene is our enemy, having broken the sacred tradition and attempting to assassinate Kassandra, the Eagle Bearer. We have proof that she worked with Zoisme the traitor. We have proof that Klymene is affiliated with the Cult. What we don’t have is answers. 

 

“Which means we need to find them. If we are being hunted, our chances of survival increase should we hide. We are fighters. We are the guardians of the forest. And we know more than anyone that nature adapts to its surroundings and scenarios. What better way to hide in plain sight?”

 

One of the older Daughters of Artemis, Acantha, limped forward. The years of the forest took their toll on her, but she still stood strong and proud, a fierce glint in her eye. 

 

 “What do you propose, child of Persia?”

 

Daphnae gave her a smile, “What is the one occupation in Greece where no one cares who you are, yet you can do anything?”

 

Acantha gave her no answer. The warriors surrounding her looked confused. Granted, most knew very little of civilized life, confined within stone walls. Thalia, however, rolled her eyes and prompted the discussion.

 

“A misthios, Daphnae?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

With that, the leader set down her satchel she’d brought from Lalaia. Inside, wrapped in sturdy paper, was crushed blue powder. Perfect for warpaint. 

 

“Weapons and armor can be found under every stone and inside every cave in Greece. Whoever is hunting us down will be looking here, in the forests, or at our camps. They won’t think to check the farms, roads, or cities. And… who cares about a simple misthios trying to earn herself some coin? Barely worth a second glance.”

 

“What would we call ourselves, child?” Acantha asked.

 

Daphnae smiled, reaching up with a knife and beginning to cut her hair. The Daughters, who had looked slightly uncomfortable at the idea of hiding in the cities, all seemed to grow in curiosity with each passing moment. She let another lock of hair fall into the dirt and glanced back up, feeling wild and free and completely like Artemis. 

 

“The Amazons.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is by Rootproxy. It took me half an hour trying to figure out how to post this photo XD. Please please please someone leave a comment!!!


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